


In the Palm of Your Hand

by lapsedpacifist



Category: Nightwing (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: Adventure, Bruce Wayne - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Damian Wayne - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Original Character(s), Titans, accidental acquisition of powers, kara zor-el - Freeform, lots of minor character appearances, more sci-fi than supernatural, no beta we die like robins, platonic love ftw, slightly angsty, time skip, well if dc said every continuity is now canon then I guess this is completely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapsedpacifist/pseuds/lapsedpacifist
Summary: Dick was forced into becoming a host for an entity of unknown strength, unknown motive, and unknown reach. The only thing he did know? It needed him alive.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Dick Grayson & Everyone, Dick Grayson & Wally West
Comments: 31
Kudos: 80





	1. Freedom of movement suddenly becomes highly desired

**Author's Note:**

> Any readers of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman will recognise the beginning of this particular plot, although I did not set out to write it exactly this way. I had an idea, began writing it, realised how similar it already was to the comic, and adapted the fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The opening bit; wherein nothing much happens besides everything changing completely.

“Nobody else survived. I don’t want to say that he’s our last hope, but we don’t have any time left.”

“But— him? Sir, if the Bat finds out we killed his partner, we won’t be able to—”

“When that ridiculous ‘hero’ figures it out, it will be far too late already. But if you think you can’t do it, or don’t trust my methods, then—”

“No, sir, we’ll do it! Perfectly clear, sir! We’re on it!”

* * *

The undecipherable chanting was mere background noise to the low but loud humming resonating through his head and every other part of his body. He could feel it building up to something stronger, something that threatened to overtake him as he struggled to hear, to  _ perceive  _ anything outside of that awful humming. The increase in chanting only served to make it slam into him harder as he felt his body move, swaying to the deafening thunder of what could only be described as pure noise, interrupted by brief periods of total silence. He wasn’t tied to the stone cold floor, but he might as well have been as he couldn’t voluntarily move even a muscle. Unable to open his eyes, to twitch his fingers, to swallow the saliva that threatened to choke him or inhale more air to escape suffocation, he couldn’t stop his mind from panicking even as he tried to gather his thoughts.

The sudden and complete lack of feeling was a shock of ice water on a sun baked skin.

The chanting was still there, but muted even more than before and the thumping noise was removed from him, allowing him to think clearly for the first time in forever.

Darkness surrounded him, but he instinctively knew it wasn’t  _ real  _ darkness that could be banished if he simply opened his eyes.

Not that he had eyes.

Or anything else.

There was no panic. His body was still there, but  _ not. _ He could almost feel it, although he was like a stranger that was looking from the outside in.

He didn’t know what it meant.

The chanting had stopped and he was far too calm for the situation at hand.

And he wasn’t alone.

_ It  _ was also there, its presence so overwhelming that he’d assumed  _ it  _ to be a part of the place, but it wasn’t.

_ It  _ was alive — whatever that meant — and  _ it  _ did not like being here.

Now that he’d noticed  _ it,  _ he saw how it shifted around him, twisting in a strange pattern as it first surrounded and then  _ permeated  _ him.

For a moment, he stopped existing.

No other description could come even close to his brief blink out of existence and the sudden reappearance into a world of pain.

He was being torn apart, piece by the smallest piece possible as  _ it  _ surged through him, intent on devouring him whole.

He managed to forget why he shouldn’t just let it. Why should he ineffectively try to resist, just to prolong his suffering for a moment longer? Time had no meaning here, resistance was futile, he was ready to let go.

But  _ it _ wasn’t just destroying every singular part that made him him.  _ It  _ inspected them, studied and tasted and relived and made him experience his memories all over again before finally obliterating them, taking both a very long time to do it as well as no time at all.

He was rapidly disappearing and he was fine with that.

Until.

It was the briefest of flashes.

They were all watching a movie together; Bruce’s idea and choice of film. Damian had to be threatened into giving up his headphones and Tim screwed up the popcorn, but Alfred wasn’t too mad.

Dick was sitting in the middle, his tightly wrapped ribs hurting and his bandaged arm itching, slightly thirsty but not daring to get up, feeling the most content he had in the past few months.

And it was enough.

Because this wasn’t just him on the line. Enough of his memories were still there for him to see that. It was also Bruce, Damian, Tim, Barbara, Jason, Wally, Roy, Donna, Clark, Kory, and he could go on forever, count all the teams and teammates and friends and acquaintances and even reluctant enemies and  _ he had something to exist for, dammit! _

_ It  _ didn’t appreciate being pushed away.

He didn’t care.

Between J’onn and Lilith, combined with Bruce’s strenuous training, his well-developed mental defences were strengthened by the best artificial shielding possible. He was neither going in blind nor unarmed. He was going in to win.

_ It  _ resisted. Struck back at him, its whole presence twisting around to suffocate him, but breathing was the least of his worries. He didn’t need to breathe here, where that was, he had realised. And whatever was in here with him wasn’t human. Wasn’t even alien, not any that he knew of. 

Wasn’t a  _ person  _ at all.

He didn’t dwell on the revelation.

_ It  _ was pushing back, beating at the shield with brute force, trying to sneak tendrils thinner than a thought past it or trying to simply smother him and he  _ knew  _ he wasn’t strong enough to resist forever.

But forever was all that he had in this place with no time or space. Despair threatened to pounce, just waiting for him to ask the question again; why was he delaying the inevitable?

Because  _ it  _ wasn’t inevitable. He could do it, he could get rid of  _ it,  _ he could win because — because this was all in his mind, wasn’t it?

Again, neither his first nor fifth telepathic battle.

The  _ thing  _ hummed around him, in what could almost be described as amusement, if he trusted himself to be feeling and interpreting  _ its  _ feelings correctly. Probably not.

But as it was his mind, he was the architect and the archiver, maybe not in complete control — but he at least knew everything about this place.

More amusement. He was fairly sure he was reading that correctly. Why—

No time.

All the time. Relativity of time meant he had an eternity as well as only a second. How long before his physical body died? Unknown. Better act fast.

When the next tendril tried to sneak past, he let it. And then he grabbed it.

_ It  _ instantly rebelled, suddenly pulling back with all its power and then some. He held it only long enough to make  _ it  _ feel the grip, then he let the tendril go and watched — observed — felt — still with no eyes or senses —  _ it  _ retreat back, no more oppressively pushing against him.

Now he interpreted the feeling he got off  _ it  _ as surprise, and not of the good kind. The light tones of amusement were gone, replaced by harsher, unpleasant notes. But as long as they were merely unpleasant, it was fine. Well. Bearable.

_ Its  _ next approach was much more cautious and slow, and the strength nearly overwhelming when it finally slammed against his shield. There were already cracks, but no tendrils or thin wires wanted to take advantage of them. Lesson learned, perhaps?

So now  _ it  _ slammed against his defences, over and over again, inexhaustible and unending.

He was going to lose this fight. 

If nothing changed, that was.

But the Bats were all creatures of ‘last resort’; when all hope seemed to be lost, there was always that one last gadget in the utility belt. 

Sometimes, it was a cyanide pill.

Metaphorically speaking.

This wasn’t his utility belt and he didn’t have a cyanide pill, but he had their unpleasant alternatives. Not precisely a kill switch; B would get mad at him for calling it that, but close enough to have him seriously reconsider this course of action.

Another thud. More cracks. He couldn’t patch them up.

Reconsidering over. Time to act.

Hypothetically, he could save  _ some  _ things, but they would have to have strong emotional connection to him. And tragedies always left the deepest scars. Damian’s death. Jason’s. Stephanie’s. Bruce’s. His parents’.

He wrapped them in the smallest bundle possible, holding them at what was soon to become the epicentre of an explosion. An implosion, to be more accurate.

Another thud.  _ It  _ was getting desperate, as  _ it  _ could feel him doing something strange.

Nothing was ever going to be the same afterwards. He only hoped he ended up in a respectable institution. Not Arkham. The asylum part of its name was nothing but a joke (pun intended) and them taking care of mentally ill a laughable suggestion. Maybe somewhere else. Out of Gotham. Somewhere sunny, perhaps. He would like that.

Another thud. Time to go.

The compressed memories hidden as well as they could be, he focused on the rest of his half-shattered mind still around him, behind the barrier that was about to fall. He reached out to them, his thoughts touching each and every fragmented part, watching as they all started resonating at the same low frequency.

The moment the shield finally failed, he would let them burst. It wouldn’t destroy  _ it  _ whole, but it would do enough.

Another thud.

The shield fell.

He was going to stop existing now.

He was ready.

**We shall talk.**

The voice was all encompassing, coming from everywhere — even deep in him — and nowhere at once, echoing loudly and ending as swiftly as it was heard. Low or high, he couldn’t decide how to describe it as it was all at once and yet nothing.

He didn’t release his hold.

**You are most different,** the voice said — yelled — whispered.  **Yet you are still human.**

_ It  _ was not attacking, not even with the shield down. The new humming was akin to curiosity, even as he could swear it did not possess that specific feeling.

He wanted to remain vigilant, to hold the kill-switch until he could be certain it wouldn’t attack again, but he was exhausted. His figurative hand was in danger of accidentally slipping off the trigger, and he wasn’t ready to sacrifice his life for a mere possibility.

He gently let go of his grip, releasing the almost vibrating bits to their natural states.

Then he gathered his thoughts in a way he’d used to for mindlink communication, and spoke into the ether surrounding him. 

_ Is that why you stopped?  _ he carefully asked.  _ Was that that dangerous to you? _

**And you speak! Most peculiar.**

A momentary pause.

**Nothing you do or will ever do could hurt me.**

Patronising disdain… How peculiar.

He let  _ it  _ see a particular thought of his.

**You were aware of this fact and still you defied me?**

_ It  _ wasn't exactly impressed, but close.

_ And I will continue,  _ he threatened,  _ if you try to destroy me again. _

**Destroy? That was but the lightest touch. Human minds are weak.**

_ Then please stop. _

**You would plead,** _ it  _ boomed, and they were back to amusement, mixed with something that had a sharper tang to it.

_ I would. You said it yourself, I can’t possibly hurt you. So now I ask you — let me live. _

**Live? You ask for your life? Not for power, for riches, for knowledge and whatnot you pesky little things always strive for?**

Well, that was a particular line of thinking he had not considered before.

_ Are you often asked for these things?  _ he carefully inquired, hopping he wasn’t overstepping some invisible line.

**Is that not why you have called me here? Why do you feign ignorance?**

Ah shit. That was definitely irritation, bordering on anger.

_ It was not me,  _ he hurried to explain,  _ I had nothing to do with— with whatever they did to you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from— trapping you. _

**Like you ever could! Do not make excuses, human, you did this to me. All of you!**

The anger was potent and painful, and it took everything to not raise the depleted shield again.

_ You are in my mind, you can see what I have seen, you have to— you can see it wasn’t me! _

**What does that matter — it was humans. You are a human, are you not?**

Well fuck, that did  _ not  _ bode well.

_ We’re much different from one another, _ he said, trying to convince  _ it. What one desires, the other might loathe. Please, you have to listen! _

**Have to? You dare presume, human?**

_ You haven’t killed me yet, despite having more than enough power to do so. For some reason, you want me alive and— and relatively sane. _

More amusement, this time, the pain from  _ its  _ anger slowly fading away.

**You dare much more than any human in your place should. It is not completely displeasing. And you still ask — for your life.**

_ Please. I don’t know what you— what they did to me. Please, just let me go— _

**Let you go?** _ It  _ repeated.  **Do you not see it, human? Can you not feel it? We are not separate any longer; we are joined, we are** **_one_ ** **now.**

* * *

**** He properly awoke not much later, still laying on the cold ground. But all the feelings were slightly muted, like there was a barrier between himself and the outside.

Someone was standing nearby, dressed in a long gray robe, almost paler than his already pale skin, and was saying something.

Dick tried to raise his head and realised he could finally move again.

Was what he’d just been through— had that all been a dream?

The man in the gray robe was somehow familiar, but he couldn’t place him immediately. There were holes in his memories, he realised. It was a shock worthy moment, something that was bound to induce anxiety, and yet the most he could feel was a mild alarm.

That wasn’t right. But he was again only mildly alarmed at the notion, instead of— he should be panicking. He wasn’t.

He ignored it for now and focused on the man and what the man was half saying, half chanting.

It wasn’t in any language he could speak and yet he understood everything perfectly. The words washed over him, trying to settle into his bones, but were easily swept away. “I bind you, Prithvi, I call on you to command you, I bind you to me! I bind you, Ea, I call on you to command you, I bind you to me! I bind you, Mat Zemlya, I call on you to command you, I bind you to me! I bind you, Gaia, I call—”

Dick rolled onto his side, facing the man.  **No,** he said, but his lips didn’t move and he didn’t speak.

Then he was launching himself up and onto the man, despite the fact that he hadn’t moved, didn’t want to move,  _ wasn’t consciously moving—  _

He slammed against an invisible barrier, the pain as muted as everything else. He was in a magical circle, he realised, and he’d seen enough of those from Zatanna and John to know that this one was nothing good. The fact it was actually containing him was even worse.

But not worse than what he was saying — was it still him saying it if his lips weren’t moving?

**You do not call on me!** He —  _ it —  _ bellowed.  **You do not command me, human! Let me out!**

The man, who had fallen silent and taken a step back at the sudden attack, now brushed off his robe and stepped forward again. “Finally,” he murmured, this time in English, “finally!” An elated expression briefly consumed his features as he raised his hands in triumph. “Now you listen to me,  _ god,”  _ he said, and another flash of panic that should’ve started off major alarms in Dick’s head went by ignored.

“Now  _ you  _ listen to  _ me!”  _ the man repeated, reaching for something on a nearby altar. Dick’s full attention immediately focused on the innocuous object in the man’s hands. One moment the little stone looked every bit as ordinary as a randomly picked stone from a field would. The other, the stone shone brighter than the sun, the man’s hands ugly spots marring its perfect surface.

Dick now knew about the barrier and yet he still reached for it, hissing when his hands were stopped bare inches away.

“You are trapped and I have your artefact. You are  _ mine  _ to command!”

**You would dare?!**

The roar of anger was potent and painless, flowing off of his skin and trying to reach the focus of its ire, but the barrier held, even as  _ it  _ slammed against it.

“Give me what power I desire and I will let you go,” the man said, only slightly nervous. He obviously trusted the barrier would hold. “Power, immortality — and no revenge from you.”

_ It  _ did not believe him.

Dick realised he had a much easier time now telling what  _ it  _ was feeling.

**No,** _ it  _ said.  **You shall not have it.**

“You won’t get out without me!”

**You will not have it.**

“And you will soon change your mind!”

* * *

Dick sat himself down into the middle of the circle, crossing his legs into the lotus pose as he attempted to meditate.

_ It  _ was much closer that way.

_ You are the goddess of Earth?  _ he asked  _ it,  _ slightly awed by the presence of a god.

**No,** _ it _ said, speaking the truth,  **they are mistaken.**

That was… both better and worse, probably.  _ Can you give him what he wants? _

**Of course,** it answered, and he wasn’t going to ask  _ how  _ it knew what kind of power exactly the man wanted,  **but they will not receive it.**

Okay, sticking to principles. Good.  _ Can you get out, then? _

**No.**

Damn. There went that hope, then.

_ So who are you, then? _

**Many questions, human.**

_ They are important. _

**You believe so.**

_ Not like I can do much else. Do you need a body like an avatar, to use your powers? Is that why they stuffed you in me? _

**No avatar is required, one is merely convenient for their purposes. Now silence your questioning or your voice shall be permanently removed.**

A threat slightly more serious than Damian’s usual ‘shut up or I’ll cut you!’, so he went quiet and tried not to think about his brothers.

* * *

The man was back the next day — what Dick assumed was the next day. He had no way of telling, not in the closed off basement they were in. 

“I demand power and immortality,” the man said. He was dressed in formal wear this time, with a gray cape and a hood instead of the full-body robe, and Dick again felt like he should know the man. But he couldn’t remember. Couldn’t make himself remember either. 

“You have more than enough power to share. Give me what I want, and you go free.”

**Release me and perhaps you will not immediately die,** Dick’s body countered. He tried not to roll his eyes at the pompousness.

“You have no hope of escaping,” the man tried to explain. “Do you want to be trapped forever?”

_ It  _ didn’t dignify him with an answer.  _ It  _ had stopped responding altogether, and the man left in a huff soon after.

* * *

Several silent (on their part) visits later, Dick was finally able to start talking to  _ it  _ again.

_ You know everything about me,  _ he said, trying not to let it show what a bad taste that left in his mouth and failing,  _ may I at least know your name? _

**Your life is insignificant and shorter than a blink of an eye, hardly something worth thinking about. Why do you demand to know?**

_ I’m not demanding, I’m asking. Please. I’m curious. We share a body now, so why not? _

**You are only conscious because the implosion of your mind would result in your death and not a coma, as you are wrongly convinced. Finding a new avatar would then be challenging. According to your memories, there are not a lot like you out there.**

_ You need me, _ he realised.  _ If it weren’t for me, they would just keep throwing random people at you and watching you kill them. Until— _

**They would not exhaust me, foolish human. But as you serve the purpose required of you, there is no reason to destroy you.**

_ That’s good to hear?  _ he ventured. Then:  _ Can I help you in any way? _

**You, help** **_me?_ ** **Do not confuse my unwillingness to cause your death with me considering you anything more than a convenience. There is nothing to be done. Nothing, but to wait.**

* * *

**** And wait they did.

Counting the days by comings and goings of the gray man soon became useless as the man stayed away for longer and longer periods of time as he failed to make any headway.

_ It  _ had ceased responding to him, forcing Dick to stay still and silent the entire time of every visit. The man was growing visibly frustrated, even went so far as to throw the little stone against the floor at one point.

Then he didn’t come back for a while.

And then the workers came, erecting physical walls around the circle.

**They would seal me away?** _ It  _ wondered, half perplexed, half irritated.

_ He’s slowly accepting you’re not going to agree,  _ Dick tried to explain.  _ Now he wants to be safe from your wrath. _

**Walls mean nothing to me.**

_ He doesn’t want anyone else getting in and freeing you,  _ Dick guessed. Then, feeling  _ it  _ was in a good enough mood, he asked:  _ You’re prepared to remain here for eternity just to prevent him getting your power? _

**You do not know eternity. It will not be eternity. He will not live much longer and then he will waste away. Everything wastes away — even this stone underneath will crumble and fall and free me. And then my revenge shall be long.**

A terrifying concept, waiting in the dark until the stone itself withered away.

**You have spent so much your time in darkness and yet you fear it?**

_ It’s not fear, it’s… dislike. I do not favour darkness, but I am not afraid of it,  _ he explained.  _ And considering the amount of years I would have to spend in here to see these stones fall, it might as well be eternity for me. _

**Humans,** _ it  _ rumbled.  **How pathetic.**

* * *

**** Construction complete, they were left alone in total darkness. Dick had briefly entertained the idea of dying of thirst, but soon realised it would have happened already, and that something else was keeping him alive.  _ It  _ refused to comment on it, but he could feel  _ its  _ minute satisfaction that he’d figured it out.

Their time together was spent in silence, Dick floating through his memories for a lack of anything better to do. Everything he relieved was still muted, a barrier between him and his feelings. He didn’t dislike it as much as he should, but whether that apathy was just another symptom or something completely unconnected did again not concern him.

Time passed. How much and how fast was unknown to him, not that he particularly cared.

The man came to them every so often. First, a bright rectangle where the steel door opened, then the dark figure that would otherwise seem so imposing in the confined space. He repeated his demands;  _ it  _ refused to talk to him. The man left, taking the light with him and again burying them in darkness.

It was after one such visit, when Dick almost threw himself against the barrier just for the chance to catch the last rays of lights, when  _ it  _ asked him a question.

More of a statement than a question, but it was asked with an inquiry in mind.

**You want light,** _it_ said, full of bafflement. 

_ I do,  _ he responded.  _ But it’s not a proper request,  _ he hurried to elaborate, to convince  _ it  _ that this wasn’t like the man’s calls for  _ it  _ to obey, to give him what he wanted.  _ I just— I miss it.  _

**You yearn for it.**

_ You have already said how pathetic that is, but I cannot help being human. I will remind you again that I didn’t ask for this. _

Anger.  **And you think they gave me a choice?**

_ I’m sorry.  _ And he actually was, felt sorry for  _ it  _ as well as himself.

**Keep your apologies, they mean nothing.**

_ An expression of politeness, not that you would know anything about it,  _ he snarked back before remembering just who he was talking to.

There was no sudden pain and no screams of rage, which was on its own a surprise. Just dissatisfaction, mixed with annoyance.

**You still think of me as human.**

_ I am … very aware that you are not,  _ he carefully offered.

**But you do not treat me so. You are hardly alone in this, humans are all unable to see just how much of their life is not, never has been and never will be part of other beings’ existence.**

**Although you can hardly call me a being.**

_ What are you, then? _

**Something you could not hope to comprehend.**

_ Try me. _

**And destroy your mind? Have you not pleaded for your life just a moment ago?**

It was more like ages ago, which worried him if that was how  _ it  _ perceived time, but he kept his figurative mouth shut.  _ Sorry,  _ he said.  _ I did not realise. _

**No. You did not.**

And another conversation in which he learnt almost nothing was over.

* * *

Then, out of the blue,  _ it _ made a flame.

Dick was once again sitting on the floor, staring into nothingness, which in complete darkness had a totally different meaning, when  _ it  _ moved his hands.  _ It  _ brought them close together, like they were cupping something very fragile, and then— 

Then there was light.

A silently flickering flame of bottle green and turquoise that radiated no warmth, but was nevertheless the nicest thing Dick had seen in a long, long — how long had it been? — while.

He slowly brought the flame closer to his face, careful not to do anything that could possibly destroy it.

_ Thank you!  _ he said.  _ Thank you, thank you, thank you. _

It illuminated almost nothing, just enough for him to see his hands, but it was enough.

He didn’t know how long he ended up staring at it, now that his body didn’t grow tired anymore and his eyes never started to drop. Even blinking was optional, but too well ingrained for him to forget to do it.

When the flame finally went out, he almost yelled out in shock if  _ it  _ hadn’t stolen his voice the moment before. Then he —  _ it — _ was standing up, forcing him to remain motionless as the steel door banged open once again.

The man looked far less put together than during other visits, his brown, slightly graying hair horribly dishevelled and with enough stubble to almost be considered a beard. His clothes were torn and bloodied, but whether it was his blood or not wasn’t apparent.

He was clutching the artefact stone in his hands like a lifeline as he fell onto his knees in front of the circle, either as a perverted form of prostration or out of exhaustion.

“Help me!” he asked — no, demanded. “You must help me!”

The only indication that  _ it  _ had heard him was a slight tilt of Dick’s head to one side.

“They’re— they’re going to kill me!” the man yelled. “Save me!”

The question was unsaid, but the man clearly understood it. “You have to,” he insisted, “nobody knows about— do you want to be forgotten here?! Trapped forever in this damned circle?”

Dick had a whole number of things he wanted to say, from insults to jokes to what could almost amount to psychological warfare, but he couldn’t voice any of them. His jaw was figuratively wired shut. Immobilised as he was, he could only watch the hopeless man hit the floor with his fists as he shouted at his audience of one: “Help me!”

_ It  _ finally spoke again.  **No,** _ it  _ said. The word was heavier than the stone surrounding them, echoing its finality as it dropped.

“You will never see your artefact again!” the man uselessly threatened, swinging the stone in front of them. “I’ll destroy it, lose it! You will never get this power back!”

_ It  _ didn’t reply. 

He dropped the artefact into one of his pockets.

Then he dragged a hand over his face, the other gripping his hair. “Just—” he began and fell silent as a shudder worked through him. He dropped his arms and looked directly into Dick’s eyes. He was frothing at the mouth.

“You’ll never get out again! Never!” he yelled, half crying already. “Just … save me!”

Dick was actually starting to feel sorry for the man, but there was nothing from  _ it  _ but contempt. Not even anger or cold fury;  _ it  _ was not even seeing him as a human worthy of  _ its  _ disgust.

**He wanted a god to do his bidding. He got me instead,** _ it  _ said, and it took Dick a second to realise it was talking to him alone and that the man, who continued sobbing on the floor, couldn’t hear them.  **They will all burn.**

_ What if you help him,  _ he suggested.

**No.**

_ He would let you go— _

**No.**

Still nothing but gray, lukewarm contempt. _It_ didn’t care to lift even a finger to help the man. Even faced with freedom, _it_ refused to share _its_ power. Dick didn’t know whether to be impressed or fearful.

The man had finally realised  _ it  _ was not going to cooperate.

Standing up on shaky legs the man stumbled away from the circle, having to catch himself on a wall to stop himself from falling over.

“You’ll regret this,” he whispered, too quiet for Dick to hear and yet he still caught every single word.

The door was closed with a last ominous thud and then they listened to his footsteps fading away.

* * *

Shortly after, a loud explosion could be heard from somewhere close and the room shook around them. Dick’s eyes immediately went to the circle, but it remained stubbornly undisturbed.

That was certainly an idea; a strong earthquake or an explosion could easily disturb the runes, but he knew it was selfish to hope. Either of those could and probably would result in a number of deaths, and just to get himself free? Far too selfish.

**You may hope all you wish, but destiny will not be changed.**

That was interesting.  _ You believe in destiny? _

**It exists; no belief necessary.**

_ You would definitely know. _

Puzzlement.

**Was that not just indicated?**

_ A bad joke, sorry.  _

More puzzlement, incomprehension.  **You joke.**

_ Should I not?  _ he asked. Maybe  _ it  _ did not recognize humour?

**Are you not terrified?**

_ Of — of you? _

**Humans have always… interacted with us according to special norms,** _ it  _ offered as an explanation.  **Proper form, it was said. You do not address gods as you would one another.**

_ But you said you’re not a god. _

**More than a god. Does that not demand greater respect?**

_ How can you be greater than something omnipotent?  _ he asked instead of answering.

**You only believe gods to be omnipotent.**

Implying that they were not in fact omnipotent.  _ Fair point.  _ Many of those that Dick knew about, mostly from Donna or Diana, were incredibly powerful, but not omnipotent. Which made this all the scarier.

Not that he particularly worried. Or cared.

He should.

He really, really should.

_ Why do you suddenly care about respect? Are you not above human concerns? _

**So this is a concept you have managed to grasp,** _ it  _ said, and he could swear there was amusement in there somewhere.  **It is curious how so many have perceived me as a higher being, a deity, enough to develop a uniform form of address. And yet they all have missed the obvious.**

_ That you’re not a being?  _ he ventured, remembering the previous conversation.

**That is so.**

_ Do you have a name? _

**No.**

_ Then, is there anything others have called you? That you might find… appealing. Or. An appropriate enough description. _

**They have called me many things, often seen me under erroneous names and assigned me many false sobriquets. There is no need for a name.**

**But. One may yet be found.**

* * *

**** Nothing much happened afterwards, not for a long, long time. Dick had gone through and relived all his memories, surprised every time he stumbled upon a gap, upon a blank space where  _ something  _ ought to have been. Was the memory of his missing memories itself missing? It did not matter. 

It gave him something to do; imagining what might have been, what might have filled those holes, how things could have happened.

But even that lasted a limited amount of time. The door remained closed. No footsteps were heard.

The boredom was itself muted, removed from him as he listlessly drifted in the silence, in the nothingness that was now his whole existence.

He didn’t need to sleep, which he partially detested and partially welcomed, afraid and yet exuberant to find out what dreams would bring him. Even so, sleep continued to elude him,  _ it  _ conspicuously silent when questioned on the subject.

He didn’t have enough strength to just keep on working, keep on thinking in this dark place he’d found himself in.

So he drifted. 

Time passed.

Sometimes,  _ it  _ would nudge him and tell him something. Suggest something. Never reveal anything about  _ itself,  _ but maybe ask about humans. Human culture. Customs. Tradition. He had to strain himself to give a correct response, and even so answers sometimes eluded him. But he kept trying.

Time passed.

Once, during a more lucid moment of his, Dick wondered whether  _ it  _ could tell just how long they’d been here. It had to have been months, maybe even half a year.

Time passed.

It was like solitary confinement and not precisely. Dick had — at least he thought he had a memory of once trying — or was it training? — such a cell. It was not healthy.

_ It  _ reminded him that his health was not in jeopardy, that his body remained healthy and muscular.

Dick told  _ it  _ he wasn’t talking about physical health, but rather mental.  _ It  _ didn’t have a good response to that. ‘Human minds were still hard to distinguish from ants’, after all.

Time passed.

He drifted.


	2. Over the whole ‘capture thing’, honestly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second bit; this has Dick going even more in circles (and finally, out of it too).

The idea of outside was so foreign to him that it took  _ it  _ nudging him to realise that what he was hearing was, indeed, the sound of approaching footsteps.

_ Someone,  _ he said,  _ has found us. _

**It has not been eternity yet,** _ it  _ said.  _ It  _ had managed to find a slight sense of humour after spending so long meshed with Dick’s mind.

The door banged open, a shot of lights hitting Dick’s eyes and making him squint to see the thin figure dressed in shadows behind it.

The person slowly approached the circle, murmuring in heavily accented French, which Dick spoke enough to get by, and still he heard and understood every word.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it, and fucking told them, too.”

The beam of light was a flashlight affixed to the helmet the person was wearing. A woman, with her hair that was only a shade darker than her brown skin in a bind, her hands clutching her backpack. Her clothes had at some point been expensive expedition gear, but were now slightly torn and very dusty. A size too big for her, too.

Dick could finally make out her face when she approached the circle, still careful enough not to disturb it. She was in her late thirties and afraid only a little as she stared at him.

He didn’t move, maybe because  _ it  _ didn’t allow for it or maybe because he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter.

She kept staring at him even as she lowered her backpack and pulled a laminated paper out of her pocket.

“You’ve got this,” she murmured to herself. “Just like I practiced.”

He almost wanted to ask her what she was doing, but stopped himself. He didn’t trust — no,  _ it  _ didn’t trust her, because she was human, and humans lied and didn’t understand and— but Dick was also a human, and—

Too confusing.

He focused on her.

She held the laminated paper with one hand and extended the other towards the circle. Then she began reciting something in Ancient Greek.

It… wasn’t all grammatically correct, and he tried not to wince at intonation of some parts. It was again calling on Gaia, but unlike the man in gray coat’s incantations, there was no power emanating from these words, nothing flowing from her speech, nothing trying to touch them.

The woman finished, lowered her hands, and watched them expectantly.

When nothing happened in the next several minutes, she shook her head and peered at the paper. 

It was then that  _ it  _ decided to speak up.

**Let me out,** _ it  _ said in that voice that came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

To her credit she didn’t flinch too badly. Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with Dick — with  _ it. _

“You understand me,” she whispered in French.

Dick —  _ it —  _ nodded. 

“You— I don’t suppose that that binding did anything,” she asked, and didn’t wait for an answer. “You would be willing to bargain, I assume?”

_ It  _ tilted Dick’s head.  **Why do you assume so?**

“You’re trapped, aren’t you. Give me what I — grant my request, and I’ll free you.”

_ It  _ waited for her to continue.

“Immortality,” she said, “for me and my husband. That’s within your power, isn’t it? That, and his health. Make him healthy and then immortal, not— don’t make him eternally sick. That’s all I ask.”

**Let me out and you shall perhaps be allowed to live.**

She nervously chuckled. “Yes, that too. You have to promise not to seek revenge on us, or — you have to promise not to seek revenge for this, at all. Promise, or swear, or do whatever makes this binding for you.”

**Let me out.**

“Do we have a deal?” she pressed.

**Let me out,** _ it  _ repeated.

“Do we have a deal.”

_ It  _ remained stubbornly silent.

“You’ll be forgotten here,” she now threatened. “Nobody — Dr Billings left  _ nothing  _ behind. “ Dr Billings, that was the name of the man that had trapped them here. A hole in Dick’s memory was suddenly filled.

“I had to go through hell to get here, and— don’t think anyone else believes this! Nobody else even believes that you exist, let alone that you’re trapped here! If you don’t — if you don’t listen to  _ me,  _ you’ll never get out!”

Then she changed her strategy. “I’m not asking for much,” she insisted. “It’s practically nothing! Billings wanted power, wanted more than he or any human should have. I don’t want that, I’m not asking for anything like that. Just… save my husband, make us immortal, and you’re free.”

**Let me go.**

“I can’t!” she yelled out. “You’re my— you’re  _ our  _ last hope!”

Dick couldn’t help but ask.  _ Why not help her? She’s really not asking for much. _

**You are swayed far too easily,** _ it  _ told him.  **Your emotions should not rule you.**

_ Sure, emotions might have made me consider her offer at first, but think about it. If what she’s saying is true, we won’t get a better offer for a long, long time. And I know that you’re prepared to wait for all eternity — or however long it takes for the stone to crumble, but I’m not. I won’t… I can’t take it. _

**This is not about you.**

_ I know! And yet, is it so selfish of me to try preserve my life — my sanity — too? _

**Your words are not entirely without merit, but my answer remains the same. My power will not be coerced in such a way.**

_ It  _ let the woman know that.

She wasn’t happy.

She was quite unhappy, actually.

“I’ll burn the notes!” she screamed. “Nobody will ever find you again! You’ll rot in here!”

Dick wanted to speak, wanted to offer her some measure of comfort, but there was nothing that could be said now and not be a worthless platitude.

For a moment she looked like she was about to throw something at them, but then changed her mind and went back to pleading.

“Please, just save him, just that, and I’ll let you out, I swear, please, please—”

* * *

They were in total darkness again. No additional explosion followed after the woman’s hasty and furious exit, and Dick selfishly hoped she had been too distraught to follow up on her threats to bury them down there forever.

Not forever forever. But it didn’t have to be an actual eternity to feel like it. It was selfish to hope for an earthquake and yet he found himself almost dreaming of one.

_ It  _ fell silent again and he with it, back to traversing the very much finite realms of his thoughts before his mind began drifting again.

* * *

**You asked for a name,** _ it  _ suddenly spoke up, and it took Dick a good couple of minutes to realise what  _ it  _ was talking about.

_ I did,  _ he confirmed.  _ Have you — have you remembered one? _

**Not remembered. Constructed, from what is known of your language and forms of expression.**

_ That’s even better.  _ He was eager to hear it, but restrained himself from pushing. 

_ It  _ fell silent again, either gathering its thoughts, which he knew  _ it  _ didn’t need to do, or creating a meaningful pause, which he could respect.

Then  _ it  _ finally spoke.  **Indeterminacy.**

_ Uh? _

**It describes me,** _ it  _ explained.  **Is that not how you name things?**

_ That’s how we name things — objects — not hum— alright, I see. We don’t usually name conscious beings after what they are, but— _

**Not a being.**

_ Exactly, you’re different. I suppose… I suppose it suits you. _

**Are you yourself not named after an object?**

_ It’s a nickname, and that’s not the point. You know my full name. Names… They don’t have to mean anything. _

**Is it not much better when they do? To serve a dual purpose. No need to question what you are dealing with as all is already explained.**

_ That’s a good point, but we humans feel like we don’t have to explain ourselves to each other. That’s not what we have names for. I suppose we merely use them to easily distinguish between ourselves, which is not something you need or want to bother yourself with. _

**Nothing is a bother for me. But your explanation is clear. Would you prefer a different name?**

_ What, for you? No! You’ve chosen that one yourself, and— if you like it, if you want it, then it works. Then it’s perfect. _

**This was a favour for you, after all.**

_ Really? I am flattered, and definitely grateful. Indeterminacy. So, are you chaos? _

**Too simple. No, ‘uncertainty’ is more appropriate. It has potential to become something** **_._ ** **Chaos requires outside intervention to be managed and resolved.**

_ To resolve chaos, huh. I know a number of orderly Lords you would get along with spectacularly. _

* * *

**You have humans you are closer to than others.**

Dick was subconsciously more than aware that  _ it  _ had not only consumed some of his memories, but had later on gone through the rest as well. And yet he startled at that remark.

_ My family,  _ he hurried to explain.  _ My family and friends.  _

**You care about them.**

_ Very much. _

**You would be prepared to do many things for them, would you not?**

He had no idea where this conversation was heading, but he continued nevertheless.  _ I would, yes. _

**Even if you had to suffer for it.**

_ Yes. _

**Was that why you asked me to help that human?**

_ The woman? She was clearly desperate. She just wanted her husband — someone she cared about — to live. _

**But you did not ask me to help the first human, not until much later.**

_ He didn’t— there was no telling what he wanted to do with that power. It could have resulted in the death of many innocents. To have freedom, at that cost? Not worth it. _

**You are not ruled by emotions.**

_ Not always. _

**And what would you give me now, if you were asked for a sacrifice to save your family?**

_ Anything. Are they in danger? Has something happened? _

**It is a hypothetical scenario. There is no way for me to tell.**

_ Sorry. But. Like I said, I would give anything for them to be safe. _

**Even your own life, the one you pleaded for before? Your sanity?**

_ There is truly not much I wouldn’t sacrifice for them. _

**Then there is something.**

_ The Earth, I suppose. I don’t think I could condemn the whole planet to die just to save my family. _

**What about something smaller. A city?**

_ I don’t— _

**A single person.**

He stayed quiet.

**You do not know, do you,** _ it  _ asked.  **You do not know what you would do. And you are scared of it.**

_ Isn’t it natural to be wary of the unknown? _

**Not when that unknown is yourself.**

* * *

**** Time passed.

_ Indeterminacy  _ kept drawing him into conversation, kept his mind anchored and relatively in one piece. He knew it was all its doing, the fact that his sanity was still intact. And that wasn’t even a by-product of its actions but their primary goal. He ought to have felt flattered; he felt mildly disgruntled.

Time passed.

He drifted.

* * *

The explosion of sound and motion was loud and literally earth shattering.

The circle only stopped them from getting out; the pieces of cement and stone freely rained down on them from the ceiling of their prison cell as he scrambled back to avoid getting hit by them.

Indeterminacy swiftly motioned with Dick’s left hand and ignited a flame, much brighter and bigger than the one before, illuminating the entirety of the cell and allowing them to finally  _ see. _

The ground was shaking and he could hear loud creaking as something gave in far above them, loud thuds accompanied its collapse somewhere close. More dust and smaller pieces drifted down around him, all of it surprisingly missing him. Or not so surprisingly. He wanted to curl up in a defensive position, shielding his head, but it was all unnecessary now.

So instead he stared right up.

Light began pouring in from the multitude of cracks that had formed above them, and he threw up an arm to shield his eyes.

Unnecessary.

Indeterminacy lowered the hand and let him blink in the first sunrays of forever, his pupils not even constricting to deal with the sudden onslaught of signals.

_ Light,  _ he whispered.

**Freedom,** it told him.

He looked down.

Cracks had formed in the circle, disrupting the careful drawn lines that had held them imprisoned for so long. He was on his feet before he knew it, staggering forward, half expecting to hit the invisible barrier.

His legs carried him right over the edge lines and he dropped onto his knees right outside the circle, in a poor imitation of their previous beggars, their jailers.

_ We’re free,  _ he thought, and it was the last thing he was consciously aware of for a good long while.

* * *

When he came back to himself, he was still kneeling on the ground, his body locked into position. But his muscles didn’t hurt and gave barely any protest when he untangled himself and staggered to his feet. He could go home, he realised. And only a moment later guiltily wondered where exactly that was.

Indeterminacy’s eternal presence, the feeling of it pervading every cell in his body, wrapped around his mind, was missing.

The ceiling was also gone, letting in the sun and he extended his hands towards it, like he could invite it down to Earth. He basked in the sunrays and the sounds floating down from above. He thought he could have stayed like that for a very long time indeed, if the human voices weren’t steadily coming closer.

It was important that he wasn’t spotted by anyone, because— because— It was right  _ there,  _ in his mind, so if only he could reach it, get slightly closer to grasp it and—

He couldn’t remember why, but the urgency remained, enough to force him to move even as muted as it was.

The steel cell door that he had come to hate first appeared to be locked, but when he tried again, it easily gave in. Not that the stairway on the other side was usable. Through the semi-darkness he could see the stairs were blocked off by boulders too large to move and too much rubble to dig through. 

He sighed and returned to the cell, listening to the voices coming closer and closer. Why didn’t he want them to see him? What was so important? It was then when he lifted his hand to mess with his hair, a nervous tic of his, that he noticed he was still dressed in his Nightwing costume. It was easy to forget in the darkness, but the black and blue were most obvious in sunlight.

Additionally, he didn’t have his mask on.

The voices were right above him, already debating how and who would descend to the lowest level of what was apparently collateral damage from a superhero battle.

Just who he had to thank for his freedom was a question for some other time, when his secret identity wasn’t at risk of being compromised.

So he hid himself in the stairway, hoping they wouldn’t try to open the door and knowing fully well that their systematic search meant they definitely would. But there was nothing there to disguise his costume, and unless he wanted to go naked, he couldn’t just take it off. There also wasn’t anything to use as a mask, but that required far less material than a whole uniform. He could always tear off a part of his costume and use it as a makeshift mask. The trouble with that plan was that his costume was the best lightweight protection possible and outside of some specialised shears there wasn’t much that could tear or cut it, and his hands were most definitely not strong enough.

Despite that he still tugged on his sleeve, trying more because he had nothing better to do and not because he actually thought it would work.

To his surprise the sleeve ripped clean off and he had no trouble poking in two holes for eyes as he tied it around his head.

Then, hearing people moving on the other side of the door, he opened it and stepped out in the most confident posture he could muster.

It took the three emergency workers a moment to react. 

“Who—?” went the nearest man, but the woman was already smiling: “Nightwing!”

The other man blinked in surprise: “You’re alive.”

“I know,” Dick said, giving them a cocky smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Holy shit,” the nearest man got out. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Gotham?”

Dick shrugged: “Not always.”

“Everyone thought you were dead,” the woman said. “With the way the Bat was acting, and then Robin went missing too, and—”

“Evans,” the other man barked, “not the time.”

“Yes, shit, sorry sir.”

The nearest man was stealing strange glances at Dick, but he couldn’t be bothered about that right now.

“Did you say Robin is missing?” he demanded.

She gave a sheepish smile to her supervisor before responding: “It’s been so long everybody thinks he’s retired, or…”

Or dead. The cold ice he’d anticipated encasing his heart never materialised. A muted slush of emotions was all that chilled him, but his mind couldn’t help but scream a single name: Damian!

The kid couldn’t be dead, but he would also rather die than retire, so what the hell was going on? How could Bruce allow for such a thing?

Bruce.

It all came down to Bruce.

If, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn’t, Damian truly was dead — again! — Bruce would be inconsolable, a danger to himself as well as others.

Something he might deserve, depending on how exactly Damian had died—

But he was getting ahead of himself. He had to talk to Bruce, he had to know what happened, he had to see Bruce  _ right now! _

* * *

And he was standing in the Batcave, a second of silence to observe the dark underworld, to deem it mostly unchanged before the intruder alarms went off.

The furiously blinking red lights and the loud sirens were only used when the cave was empty, to let the potential hostile know that the bats knew about their arrival. As it was midday, Dick wasn’t terribly surprised the cave was empty, although his method of arrival was both surprising and not relevant at the moment.

But the red lights were making it hard to look around, to see what had changed if there was a newly added memorial case with a hooded Robin suit inside. They were bothering him, so the sirens and the lights went out, plunging the cave in complete darkness, and Dick felt his heart stop. 

Then the normal lights came back on, and it started again.

Now he looked around in peace.

Not much had changed on the main floor, although the computer banks looked slightly shinier. Those were not his priority, however.

He made his way over to the podium with the show uniforms. Their actual uniforms that were worn, cleaned and stitched every day, were not in glass cages as their upkeep already took up far too much time without having to bother to properly display them.

No, these were… special.

Jason’s memorial case had long since disappeared and instead of upsetting memorials for dead people, they began setting up something almost akin to a museum — not much different from all of Bruce’s trophies on display all over the cave, really.

There were a couple of iterations of the batsuit, even the one Dick wore. Dick’s first Robin costume and his first Nightwing. Jason’s Robin costume, but now in a less morbid fashion. Tim’s. Steph’s. A couple of Batgirls.

And Damian’s current Robin uniform as well.

Which again, was nothing definite. Damian could have simply… retired Robin, which was a good thing that Dick was very much in favour of, except that he knew that Damian would rather confess his undying love to Tim than give up Robin.

His hand gently touched the ice cold glass as he wondered. Wouldn’t he have somehow  _ felt  _ it if Damian had died? Or would he go on, unaffected, completely unaware that another brother of his had fallen in this pointless battle that Bruce—

But he couldn’t think like that.

He had to find Damian.

It was then that he heard the soft whine of the transporter and he whirled away from the podium. When did Bruce lift the shielding?

Not important.

The two figures that cautiously approached him were more than simply familiar to him. He grinned at them, already untangling the knot keeping his temporary mask in place.

“B, Clark, you won’t believe how good it is to see you,” he said.

Neither rushed forward to greet him, which was understandable, but neither even cracked a smile, which was worrisome.

“Hey?” he lamely said again. “It’s… me. I’ve been missing. Which I hope you’ve noticed. Although I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been gone for, they didn’t exactly lend me a calendar—”

It was Bruce that reached him first, Bruce’s fists that grabbed his suit and pulled him upwards to meet an enraged expression.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” he managed. “B, put me down!”

“You come here,” Bruce hissed, “you break in, you wear  _ his face  _ and pretend to be him _ , you— how dare you!” _

Ah. Whoops.

“But it is me!” Dick insisted.

Bruce violently shook him even as Clark grimly stood by, not willing to step in even as Dick’s pleading eyes reached him.

“B, ask me—” 

He wanted to say ‘ask me anything’, but remembered at the last possible second why that wouldn’t work.

“Boolean Opium Opossum Belgian Swordfish,” he instead said, hoping the extremely old joke password he and B had set up was still lodged somewhere in Bruce’s brain.

It bought him a moment as Bruce stared at him in surprise.

“You once wrote a poem for a girl you liked, but when you gave it to her in school, the teacher mistakenly took it as your poetry assignment and read it to the whole class.”

Now Bruce looked both stricken and murderous.

“We might have agreed to never speak about it, but you were on the verge of throttling me,” Dick explained. 

Bruce finally let him down, now almost ripping off his cowl in the hurry with which he pulled it away from his eyes.

“Dick?” he choked out.

“It’s me, B,” Dick smiled.

Then he was being crushed in a most unexpected but welcome hug. Clark was smiling over Bruce’s shoulder, and for a second, all seemed well.

Then Bruce was pulling back. “We’ll have to run tests,” he proclaimed, “but—”

Now it was Clark that swept in, pulling Dick in another hug and letting him go just to begin asking his own questions: “Dick, what happened? Where were you? How did you get back? We’ve been looking for you, but—”

Dick was more than prepared to start sharing his story, but first he had a much more pressing question.

“Just a second,” he promised Clark and turned to Bruce, who in turn was still glaring at Clark.

“Damian,” he simply said, choosing to ignore the uncomfortable tension between those two and hoping it was only a minor misunderstanding they would fix quickly and quietly and he wouldn’t have to get involved.

But right now? Damian.

Bruce understood.

“Alive and... relatively well. So are the others. Everyone’s… fine.”

‘Everyone except you’ went by unsaid.

Dick nodded.

“Alright,” he said, “now take my blood.”

* * *

Clark left soon after, but only after making both Dick and Bruce promise they would call, and making Dick also promise to regale him with the tale of his imprisonment and miraculous escape as well. He had also agreed to keep Dick’s return a secret for at least a couple of days so that they could tell the family personally. After running all the possible tests and examinations, of course.

With only his cowl off, Bruce looked much older than Dick was used to, but he didn’t know whether it was simply because the man was exhausted or if there was anything extra going on.

They took care of preliminary tests in silence, Bruce only speaking once everything was packed away and they were waiting for the first results.

“We… we searched for you,” he finally said. “After it took us an unacceptable amount of time to determine you were actually missing.”

Dick scratched the back of his neck. “I did tell Oracle that I was on a case, but I didn’t say which,” he admitted. “And my notes on that might leave something to be desired. Which I fully admit to being a mistake, but I—”

He frowned. Another hole discovered.

Bruce simply stared at him, so he shook his head. “Nevermind. It’s not your fault.”

Bruce silently nodded, and even though it would have been nice to hear a ‘and neither is it yours’, Dick didn’t feel any usual longing for words of affirmation. This new normal… would take some getting used to, but he saw it as quite beneficial at the moment.

So Dick, in the shortest report possible, explained his capture, the sacrifice, and the following time spent in darkness with an unknown entity, leaving most of his and Indeterminacy’s conversations out. As expected Bruce wasn’t happy about Dick’s inability to explain what exactly happened to the entity afterwards or how Dick managed to break into the cave, but as Dick was unable to tell him more, he had to accept it.

Dick decided not to mention the holes in his memory, unwilling to burden Bruce more.

Instead he switched the conversation to happier topics: “So, where’s Damian? Tim? Cass? Literally anybody?”

“I put out a general call a while ago. They should be here soon.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Dick said. “And isn’t Damian supposed to be in school?”

“It’s Saturday.”

Dick frowned. The cave was never completely empty on the weekends, even during the day.

“Are they on a mission?” he asked.

Bruce simply grunted a no, now focused on the microscope and Dick’s blood.

“Alright,” he rolled his eyes, “and here I thought you were happy to see me.”

At that Bruce whirled around surprisingly quickly, his jaw clenched as he stared at Dick. Dick simply lifted an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.

But as Bruce finally opened his mouth, a loud roar from the road entrance announced a motorcycle and Bruce’s mouth snapped shut again.

Dick rolled his eyes and turned towards the vehicle platform, excited to see who had made it first. Then he frowned, because he had never seen this person before.

They were stepping off a sleek motorcycle of dark red with no insignias on it, a similarly nondescript helmet on their head.

But their uniform was… familiar. The body was of a red dark enough that it looked almost black, with a figure of a bird in the middle of their chest in lighter orange. Not so dissimilar to one of Nightwing’s variants, although this particular suit also had a cape with a hood as well as a utility belt strapped around the waist.

Dick subconsciously took a step closer to see this — this — it couldn’t be an impostor, the costume was too far removed from Nightwing’s typical wear to be mistaken for him.

Then the figure took off their helmet.

And Dick was left staring into the entirely too grown up face of his littlest brother.

* * *

He knew he should probably have been shocked into a heart attack or at least silence, but as with everything else, even the sudden shot of adrenaline was somehow removed from him. He was acutely aware of how little it was impacting him.

Instead he rushed forward and hugged Damian with full clarity. How, why, or what exactly were questions to be answered later. He had a Damian that enthusiastically hugged back in his hands, and he wasn’t letting go any time soon.

“Richard!” was the name he was greeted with, and he awarded Dami with the biggest smile he could muster: “Damian!”

It was him that finally gently pulled Damian off of him. “Look at you,” he said, trying not to feel like every older person that was acquaintances with Bruce and saw Dick every five years, “you’ve  _ grown.” _

“That’s what one does, Richard,” Damian rolled his eyes, and holy shit, Dick had to look  _ up  _ to him! His little brother was  _ bigger  _ than him! 

“But— you were — what happened?” he helplessly asked.

Damian frowned, his eyes quickly jumping from Dick to Bruce. Dick didn’t know what kind of signal Bruce gave the kid, but Damian licked his lips. “You were gone.”

“But—” Dick began when Bruce interrupted him. 

“How long were you gone, Dick?”

“I don’t actually know,” he said. Hadn’t he told them this already? “Not like I was counting, but it felt like— shit, it felt like months.”

Going off Damian’s shocked expression, that wasn’t the right answer.

“Dick,” Bruce said, and holy shit, that was his ‘I have bad news and don’t know how to share them so I’ll just blurt them out and hope for the best’ voice; “Dick, you’ve been gone for five years.”

“Ah,” Dick smartly said. “That’s… longer than I thought.”

Both Bruce and Damian were now staring at him with slightly puzzled expressions that nevertheless did not mask their delight — and yes, he was using the word ‘delight’ to describe the way in which there was an actual smile on Bruce’s face.

Damian now tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he peered at Bruce again: “You look exactly the same.”

“He already ran all the tests, Dami, it’s me. I was just — I guess stasis is one way of putting it? Like I told B — and will tell you, as soon as more people gather so that I don’t have to repeat this five times — I don’t really know what happened.”

“I wouldn’t have contacted you if I wasn’t sure, Damian,” Bruce said in a much kinder voice than what Dick was used to hearing from him when talking to his youngest son. It appeared to be a new experience for Damian too, who seemed shocked for a moment before nodding.

“I understand,” he said. “But at least tell me how you found Richard. Since  _ you  _ were the one that called off the search.”

That was both surprising and not surprising at all to hear. Surprising, because Bruce took obsessive fixation to an art form, and not surprising because now there was a large group of people around him ready to stage an intervention.

The fact that Damian had clearly been against it and still held it against Bruce was no surprise either. Actually, Dick took in Damian’s new uniform again as a thought began building somewhere in the back of his mind.

“He didn’t find me,” he hastened to explain before B could give Damian some brusque reply to steer conversation away from unpleasant topics. “I got free and came here. More importantly, Dami, I want to know how you’re doing!”

“I wasn’t the one kidnapped for five years,” Damian grumbled, but Dick dismissed the evasion with a smile.

“I mean… It’s not every day you quit being Robin and get a new costume. Nice homage to both Robin and Batman, though. I really dig the boots and the forearm blades.”

Damian gave a court nod. “Thank you. I suppose you also know what this—” and he pointed at the bird on his chest “—pays homage to?”

“I have a couple of guesses,” Dick nodded, but he wanted to hear Damian say it.

“As I have been operating in your city—”

Since Damian had been doing  _ what? _

“—I believed it to be only appropriate to take up the mantle showing my connection to its previous defender. You have told me the story of the origin of your name many times, which is why you now see this in front of you.”

“Flamebird,” Dick grinned. “It really suits you. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

“Assigning favorites just like that, aren’t we,” came from above them in a familiar voice, and Dick turned to see a taller and slightly more filled out version of another of his brothers standing on the stairs. 

Tim was wearing civilian clothes, his slightly longer hair than Dick remembered him with in a short ponytail and glasses over his eyes.

Dick abruptly realised that, having missed five years — but had he? Had he really missed them, if it was only his body that didn’t age? He had been perfectly conscious during that time, almost too conscious.

Irrelevant

He couldn’t afford to care about that right now.

“Tim!” he called out, “you’re here!”

Tim sprinted down the remaining stairs and greeted him with a very strong hug. “You really think I wouldn’t be?” he asked. He sounded faintly hurt.

“Nope, just joking. You’re not at the manor anymore?”

Just like Damian before, Tim now looked over Dick’s shoulder to meet Bruce’s eyes. What fun it was, having such a paranoid family! Not that it wasn’t often called for.

Having received whatever he’d been looking for, Tim turned back to Dick. “Not for a while, no,” he said. “And… you look exactly the same.”

Dick sighed. “We’ll get there when we get there. Like I told Dami, I don’t want to go over this five times.”

“Cassandra and Stephanie should be here soon, but Duke and Jason can’t make it.”

A factual report and yet Bruce seemed almost… sorry about it? It wasn’t his fault that Duke and Jason couldn’t make it, so why…?

Later.

“So, if Dami’s Flamebird, are you still going by Red Robin?”

Dick was fairly sure that Tim hadn’t changed his vigilante persona, but he had to make small talk in order to release some of the tension that began to build between Bruce and Damian, Bruce and Tim, and Tim and Damian, simply by having them all in one room. An enormous, cavernous — ha — room, but still. Ah, everyone versus everyone fights. Dick’s favourites.

As Tim answered in affirmative and then started talking more about slight costume changes and where his current path was taking him, Dick nodding in the appropriate places, he let it wash over him even as he stared at Damian’s forcefully relaxed fists and B’s tightly wound posture, Tim’s careful avoidance of certain topics and the missing practice mats.

He had missed much during those five years and he wasn’t completely looking forward to fixing all the issues that had popped up.

But he wouldn’t trade this — this family, him finally being home — for anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!!!  
> Just kidding, there’s five more chapters left and things get worse before they get better. Enjoy Bruce being awkward, he won’t be around for long (not as in ‘killed off’ kind of way but more of a ‘avoiding that asshole’ kind of way).  
> Indeterminacy is back in the next chapter :D


	3. Realizations about the actual unpleasantness of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third bit; being back is not all he hoped for and he isn’t planning on staying.

Cass and Steph were a breath of fresh air. Steph loudly squealed as she hugged him, and Cass demonstrated her superbly acquired command of the English language by going into quite a long speech about how much she’d missed Dick, both vocally and with sign language. He just had to hug her longer for that, as proud of her that he was.

Then it was onto another description of his captivity, with appropriately shocked gasps from his audience (Steph) and a lot of sympathetic looks (Steph and Tim) even as he began making an entire call list in his head of people that deserved to be informed of his reappearance from his personally and not from a JL memo or something equally ridiculous that Bruce was putting together right at that moment.

They had, on his and B’s words, accepted him being who he claimed to be and he couldn’t be happier to... be… back...

It was… bland. There wasn’t really any other word he could use to describe himself or the situation.

He thought he would be — he’d  _ wanted  _ to be — overjoyed, too overcome by happiness to properly analyse anything and get yelled at by Bruce, which would only make him more aware that he was finally home and exactly how lucky he was to be here again and—

It wasn’t like that.

He’d been waiting for this for so long, had imagined it so many times, and now it was finally in his grasp! He was home!

He tried to tell himself he was happy, but that wasn’t  _ enough.  _ He had to be ecstatic, overcome by joy and almost dead with relief!

It wasn’t like that.

**Was this not all you dreamed of?** Indeterminacy asked him, appearing in his head out of nowhere.

Literally.

He blinked in shock.

He had thought it gone.

_ What— where are you?  _ he anxiously asked, but received no reply. It was gone as swiftly as it had appeared, if it had even been there. Or merely an auditory hallucination? Did he have to worry about that as well? Couldn’t he just… Not think about  _ it  _ for a moment?

* * *

He was finally given some of Damian’s civilian clothes, because Bruce’s were far too big on him and Damian’s were only slightly too wide and he didn’t even need to roll up his sleeves.

His room was untouched but spotless, which came as no surprise. Just another reminder of Bruce’s complete inability to let go and move on, which of course couldn’t manifest in the man doing anything  _ productive. _

Hold on, why was he being so harsh? Not that Bruce didn’t necessarily deserve it, but this was all old news to Dick, something he should be long used to. And he was used to it, wasn’t he?

Irrelevant. Or not. But definitely something he didn’t have time to think about right now.

After a very long shower that had sadly not been a bath, because he was certain he would just fall asleep in it, he took a minute or five to thoroughly inspect himself in the mirror.

He looked exactly as he’d remembered, maybe even better. There were no eye bags underneath his eyes and his skin was once for a change not an unhealthy pallor.

But he didn’t have time to brood about it. As soon as he closed the bathroom doors behind himself, ready to jump into bed, there was a knock on his bedroom door.

And so it began.

* * *

First was obviously Steph, since she wasn’t staying the night and had to leave soon. Now that they were alone, he had an excuse for studying her older face in detail.

“Look, I know I’m not exactly supposed to be the one to be saying this, but I — we — did really miss you,” she told him as she slowly itched towards the only free chair behind the desk, but didn’t actually sit down.

She was dressed in a loose flowery shirt with a brown vest and tight jeans, and he had to wonder whether it was reflective of current fashion trends or something completely of her own. Her hair was in a braid and her fingers played with the hem of her flowing shirt instead of loose strands.

She was also looking at him with concern and Dick realised he was expected to answer.

“I know we weren’t very close and that I’ve been rather… harsh with you,” he said, “but I am glad to see you; not just in a context of ‘am I glad to see all of you’, which is certainly true, but doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the individual.” And he gave her a radiant smile that he hoped would be a good enough peace offering.

It was.

“I would love to do more joint patrols, now that I’m back as Spoiler.” she offered. Then immediately added: “As soon as you’re cleared and all. Don’t wanna come between you and Bats.” She didn’t need to add ‘you know how he is’.

But also, right, Spoiler! That was her secret identity, the violet-black costume! Another memory missing, how great. And it was quite an important one.

“Sure. Nightwing and Spoiler is even catchier than Red Robin and Spoiler.”

“What is with you guys and refusing to put my name first?”

“We’re all too used to being ‘-and Robin’, so now we wanna be the first part. Also, alphabetically.”

She seemed personally bothered by that.

“Sit, please,” he asked her, and when she did, continued: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she was quick to deny. “It has nothing to do with you,” she elaborated.

Ah, that was more like it.

“Then, does it have something to do with Tim?”

“How did you know?” Then she immediately shook her head and put her hand up. “No, don’t tell me, I know. I winced when you mentioned Red Robin, didn’t I.”

She seemed bitter about that.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he tried to offer.

She watched him for a moment. “Sorry,” she apologised. “I’m just used to hi— to people constantly doubting my, uh, detective abilities.”

Oh, he could empathise.

He wanted to defend Tim, to explain that the kid was probably just worried, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know the situation, didn’t know the circumstances, and didn’t know if it was called for or not. But he knew how much an overbearing partner sucked, so he was already sympathetic to her despair.

“I could talk to him?” he offered.

“No. It’s fine, now. I think. And even if it’s not, I’ll… I’ll fix it myself.”

“Alright.”

“And— oh. Yes. Alright. Well, patrol later? I’ll text you— wait, what’s your phone number?”

“Uh. Good point. I think I’ll have to get a new phone. I guess  _ I  _ will text  _ you.” _

“Don’t take too long!”

“It shouldn’t take long at all.”

* * *

Second was, again predictably, Tim.

He came closer, sat on the bed by Dick’s feet, and then sighed. 

Dick raised an eyebrow but let him be. Instead he took the time to study Tim’s grownup face. There was a new scar on his cheek, still pale white colour of a newly healed wound. Huh. That couldn’t have been pleasant.

Almost 23, which was really close to 24, so — practically Dick’s age! Well, Dick’s age before he managed to trap himself in that sacrificial circle. He wondered how old he was now. Did they calculate age by mind or by body? Probably mind, right?

In any case, Tim had grown up. He didn’t really remind Dick of Jack Drake, but there was still enough resemblance. His worried frown was all Bruce, though. As was probably the very expensive watch. The dirty sneakers, though, those seemed more like Tim. The longish hair, haphazardly swept in a high ponytail, not so much.

“It was hard,” Tim finally said.

Dick could imagine. Hell, they’d all lived it, and not even with the comforting thought that the missing person might be alive, not with Bruce’s corpse. That had been enough, enough for everyone but Tim. The kid was, and Dick couldn’t believe he was even thinking this, too emotional at times.

But Tim was continuing on, so he focused on listening. “Almost like after Jason’s— yeah. You were  _ gone  _ and we couldn’t find you anywhere and everyone was angry and arguing and Damian wouldn’t listen to anyone and—”

“Was that why he left?” Dick interrupted him before he could get too heated.

Tim’s head shot up, finally looking at Dick. “What?” he frowned. “No, that came later. Just… We really missed you. I’m glad you’re back.”

It would be very mean to ask whether Tim was glad because Dick was back, or because Dick being back would mean that the rest of the family would be back to behaving normally. So he didn’t. Tim was still his little brother, no matter that he was almost as tall if not taller. Nope, definitely not taller. Not happening.

“Me too, Timbo,” he said instead of letting the kid in on any of his thoughts. “So what are you up to with the Titans these days?”

“I haven’t been with the Teen Titans for a while. I thought you’d— I’m leading Young Justice. Have been, for a while. Although we might need to drop that ‘Young’ soon.”

Dick leaned closer: “Hm, that would definitely be a good idea. I can count at least five gray hairs already.”

Tim slammed his hands onto his hair, like blocking them from Dick’s eyes would somehow make a difference.

Dick fell back onto the pillows, laughing. “Did you seriously— dude, you believed me?”

“Shut up,” Tim muttered, “it could’ve been true. Besides, I expected this nonsense from Ja— not from you.”

Ah.

He tried to examine his fingernails in the most innocuous way possible, but one that still screamed ‘I really wanna look casual saying what I am about to say but I am fully aware it’s going to make you splutter either in offence or surprise or both’. “So was it you that reached out to Jason or did he pull his head out of his ass for five minutes to approach you?”

To his credit Tim did not splutter. His control of his face and other motions had apparently greatly improved, but not enough. The minuscule widening of his eyes, the smallest twitch of his fingers and how his breath hitched were like giant signposts, proclaiming ‘Surprised person here!’ with big arrows pointing at Tim.

“Both,” he admitted after a moment of silence.

“Both?”

“Let’s just say that by the time he decided to approach me, I have been looking for him for quite a while. A mutual decision, I guess. Of course he had come mostly to ask whether this was another Spyral scenario and to then bitch about it for an hour—”

“Not like he never told anyone he got resurrected for a couple of years,” Dick murmured under his breath, but judging by Tim’s pause and a raised eyebrow, not quietly enough. Dick shrugged. “Hey, it’s true.”

“I didn’t say anything. However, after I explained to him that as far as anyone knew, you truly were missing, he did in fact offer to look into some possibilities I wasn’t able to.”

“When you say offered—”

“Cursed you out some more, loudly proclaimed he would never do shit to help you, then swiped my proposals on the way out.”

Jason had actually mellowed out, and wasn’t that a surprise.

“Needless to say, he didn’t find anything. Nowadays he’s mostly far away from here. By  _ here  _ being Earth.” Tim tilted his head and partly opened his mouth, like he was considering saying something, but then shook his head and stayed quiet.

“Y’know,” he finally said, “I didn’t actually believe we could survive without you.”

“That’s what we thought about Bruce, too,” Dick reminded him. “And we managed. More or less.”

“I’ll give you a hint about the current situation: it was less.”

And with those peculiar words Tim left him alone.

* * *

Not for long. His third visitor was Cass, and Dick briefly joked that he was going to start charging entrance fees.

She was still short and lithe, but visibly older, just like the others as Dick quickly calculated she was almost 28. 28! 

Her hair was cut short, and he could spot a lone pink earring in one ear. She at least didn’t have any new scars, for which he was grateful, even though he couldn’t really see much of her skin in the turtleneck and dress pants she wore.

Just like Tim she sat on the bed by his feet, toeing off her boots before slipping her feet underneath the other end of his blanket.

“I haven’t been home a lot,” she said, staring somewhere over his left shoulder. “And I do mean here by saying home.”

“Why not?” he gently asked, but she shook her head.

“I’m not telling you this so you can… troubleshoot my problems,” she explained. “I don’t need you to do anything, just — just listen.”

He silently nodded and she continued.

“It wasn’t even a conscious decision — at first. We were running all over, trying to find you, and as I had spent most of my time outside of Gotham it made sense that I be the one to be sent on those expeditions. And then when — when I finally came back, when I stayed in the manor for a while to, I guess, recuperate, it all seemed so strange.”

She noticed his puzzled look.

“I guess I had certain expectations about group dynamics of this particular family. From what it used to be like. From your stories. Steph’s. Even Tim’s. And it just wasn’t like that anymore.”

She shrugged, still refusing to look him in the eyes. “It was tense. Morbid. Damian was… closed off. Wouldn’t listen to anyone, not even B. And then he left. I couldn’t stay either, I guess.”

Now she finally actually looked at him and he gave her a small smile as she realised she was done.

“That must have been really difficult,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“I know. I sympathize. I’ll talk to B, and Dami, and we’ll see—”

But she stopped him. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I wanted… Well, I didn’t want you trying to fix it all on your own.”

He frowned: “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” she said, putting the emphasis on ‘have’. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

“Just that?”

“Was there supposed to be more?”

“How’s ballet going?”

Judging by the hunch of her shoulders and the slightly lowered head, not good. “I quit.”

“No! Why?” He thought he had some idea, but he hoped it wasn’t true.

“First we were all too busy looking for you. Then, when I finally came back, it didn’t— it didn’t seem fair.”

This, he recognised. “Fair for you to be enjoying something while I was still missing?” And here he had hoped that she — that his siblings hadn’t picked up all his bad habits, although this one could have come from Bruce too. “Do you still wanna do it now?”

“Not  _ now  _ now. I think I need new shoes first.”

* * *

Damian was late. Almost too late, as Dick’s eyes were already slipping closed as he tried to keep himself awake thinking about his youngest brother. Already an adult, older than eighteen, and Dick hadn’t been there to see him grow up. He hoped there were pictures.

It was still a mild shock seeing Damian’s tall figure, even though he now knew fully well just how big the kid was. Tall and broad, now even more similar to Bruce than before. A jagged scar ran across the bridge of his nose, his short hair in an undercut and his tired eyes in a frown.

“Come here,” Dick said and patted the bed next to him.

Damian obliged and sat down by the headboard, close enough that Dick could lean on him.

“Still as tactile as I remember,” the kid said.

“And you’re still all snarky,” Dick answered.

“I know I have not made it clear, in the past, but I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Dick thought it would be best if he didn’t turn to the kid with an incredulous expression on his face. “It’s alright,” he said instead. “I did know.”

Damian still didn’t look completely convinced, but still abandoned that line of conversation. “I suppose you would be interested in knowing just how well I took care of your city. Although before that I would like you to know that Flamebird is by now a well-established identity.”

“That’s nice to hear?” Dick ventured, quickly checking Damian’s expression. Damian had his arms crossed and was still glaring at something, so there must have been something more to that declaration that Dick had—

Ah.

“Of course it is. You made it, so it’s yours. I’m not going to— I  _ can’t  _ tell you to stop, Damian. Or to change the name. This is your identity.”

“That’s not what I was thinking at all,” Damian said, but the relieved tone in his voice betrayed him. “I merely… I merely considered the implications.”

“The implications of Flamebird being Nightwing’s partner, you mean? Didn’t you — well, I’m fairly certain it was you that once said ‘we were the best’, Damian. I still believe that. Do you?”

“What kind of a nonsensical question is that!”

Well, that was informative enough.

“It’s been five years, I thought that—”

“You thought me feeble enough to forget such a promise? Richard, I must protest!”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that! And… You’re joking. That was a joke, and you are joking. With me. Of your own free will.” How was this— this was amazing. Dick couldn’t and didn’t want to fight the smile that felt like it stretched off of his face, too. 

“Much has happened while you were gone.”

“I am seeing that, now. You moved to Blüdhaven, li’l D!”

“Far from little,” Damian scowled. “And like I said. The city had no protector, so it was only logical that I took care of it. For you. Your gratitude is welcome but not needed. I believe that you would put it as ‘the right thing to do’.”

Dick still beamed at him: “It doesn’t make it any less amazing. I know how shitty Blüd can be, you know. So when did you move? And wait, does that mean that B is without a Robin?”

“He has enough other sidekicks flying around to not need a special partner. Besides, you entrusted Robin to me and I wasn’t just going to give it away that easily.”

Too precious.

“I haven’t seen much, but from what little you told me, I couldn’t be prouder of you, Damian.”

“But you haven’t even—”

“Nope, shush, I’m saying that I’m proud of you, okay? And I would be most honoured if you would be willing to work together again.”

“As partners?”

“As partners.”

* * *

Afterwards he gave up on sleep. It didn’t seem to be coming, unlike Bruce. The man was bound to ambush him at some point during the night, but Dick wasn’t going to just sit around and wait.

Indeterminacy, on the other hand, surprised him as soon as he stepped into the bathroom. Whether that was due to it correctly guessing about how closely and fiercely his bedroom was currently being guarded or because of a simple coincidence was irrelevant. The relevant point was that  _ it  _ was here.

**You thought me gone,** it aptly guessed or maybe knew. Whichever it was, it was right and he let it know that. 

**You will not see me wrong,** was the unhelpful response.

_ Whatever,  _ he said, slightly annoyed.  _ How are you here? I thought, since I couldn’t feel you anymore, that you— _

**You were wrong.**

_ Well, will you explain it? _

**Perhaps later. You have not let your compatriots know about me.**

_ My family. They’re my family. And I— _

**Ah. That is more of an answer than you thought you gave me. You have indicated previously that you would do anything to protect them, have you not?**

_ If you think threatening them—  _ he started to threaten right back, but Indeterminacy interrupted him, again.

**You have explained these things to me previously. This was me attempting to understand. Additionally, they will never be in danger from me.**

This was something Dick had been waiting from.

_ I’d wondered, just why exactly I don’t appear to be completely… divorced from you and your abilities. Since you indicated previously that you have no need for an avatar. _

**You are no avatar of mine. And never will be.**

Was that intentionally rude or was it meant as a compliment? Neither? He really couldn’t tell, as Indeterminacy suddenly went all rigid, the previous curiosity and amusement fading away to cold determination.

**You are to be and already are my paladin.**

_ Hang on, what? _

**Warlock perhaps?**

_ Have you been — look, I don’t know whose memories you were looking into — that’s a lie, I can guess it was Tim, but I have a barely passing knowledge of D&D and would appreciate more explanation.  _ He took a seat on the side of the tub, close enough to the mirror to inspect the slight movement of his facial muscles as he held the mental conversation.

**You have been granted immense power — courtesy of me — and are now my tool upon this Earth. That is why you now must go on a quest. For me.**

_ Are you fucking kidding me. _

**How crude of you.**

_ You have standards now? What do you need? _

**You have not been rid of me because, and as painful as this is to admit, that is something that cannot be done at the moment. That artefact…**

A picture flashed in his mind like he didn’t immediately guess what it was talking about.  _ The stone thingy that Billings was dragging around. What happened to it? _

**That is exactly the question you will be finding out.**

_ Are you… are you trying to tell me you lost it? Isn’t it imbued with your power or something? _

**What that despicable creature has done has severely weakened me and constrained me in this limited form on this lowly planet. The artefact must be recovered if you wish to be ever rid of me.**

_ And I was wondering why you haven’t killed me yet. _

**You wonder a lot. But worry not; you will remain alive afterwards. That is a promise that can be made.**

_ So I just need to find that stone for you and then we’re done? _

**Succinctly put.**

_ Hm. Any idea where it could be? _

**Still on this planet, but that is all that is apparent to me.**

_ Can you search for it too? I’m thinking that if we divide the space, we can— _

**No.**

_ Alright then. I guess I’ll just search the whole planet Earth for a small stone, huh?! Look, you were in the ‘cave, you’ve seen the resources we have here — if I ask for help, we can get this done— _

**No. This must be done by you and you alone. Do not attempt to bring others into it, you have no idea what powers you mess with.**

* * *

**** Bruce was waiting for him when he exited the bathroom. What a surprise.  _ Not. _

Dick stared at him as he, in turn, stared out of Dick’s window in silence, his back towards Dick. Dick mentally shrugged and laid onto the bed. Even if he couldn’t sleep, that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate a good lie-down on the mattress that had to be imported from Heaven for how soft it was.

“I see you didn’t drown in the bathtub,” the man finally said in a truly atrocious attempt at breaking the ice that had begun creeping up in their uneasy quietness.

“Good extremely early morning to you too, Bruce,” Dick replied. “I suspect there’s a particular reason you have decided to haunt my bedroom? I know for a fact you have a better view from yours.”

Bruce turned so quickly that it made Dick blink in surprise and by then the man was already standing next to the bed and towering over him.

“You were gone,” Bruce quietly said. “We thought you  _ gone.” _

Dick scrambled to sit up even as Bruce almost collapsed onto the bed, his left knee between Dick’s legs as he wrapped his hands around Dick’s torso. “You’re back,” he mumbled into Dick’s neck.

Both a surprising move and surprisingly uncomfortable — who would have thought that 230 lbs of pure muscle wasn’t the best pillow — Dick slowly set his hands down over Bruce’s shoulders. “I’m back,” he said. “You confirmed it. It’s me.”

“We didn’t find you. We  _ couldn’t  _ find you.”

Dick smiled, despite knowing Bruce couldn’t see his face. “That’s fine. I found myself.”

“We— I called off the search. I  _ abandoned  _ you.”

He continued gently stroking Bruce’s back. “You couldn’t keep going for five years, B, it’s fine. And it was only fair, right? It was me that told Tim not to look for you, remember? When you were the one lost? I didn’t even look for you.”

“That was not even a remotely similar situation. I knew you were still alive. I  _ hoped  _ you were. You can’t do that to me, Dick. You… you know I can’t lose you.”

Dick clenched his fingers into fists rather than drag his nails across Bruce’s shoulders. “I love you too, B,” he carefully said, “but you know as well as I that that’s not something I can promise. Besides, even if I— even if something happens to me, you can carry on. I know you can.”

Bruce finally lifted his head, showing himself back as he straightened up and sat on the bed next to Dick. “No,” he said, “because I am  _ not  _ losing you. Jason, Damian, Stephanie — they all came back, so what gives you the right to stay away?!”

“It was you who brought Damian back,” Dick said and then immediately winced. Not the time.

“And I couldn’t bring  _ you  _ back. I couldn’t save you, the one person—” 

He shut down. 

Shook his head. 

“I failed you.”

There was far too much in those few words for Dick to give a simple answer; anything he could say felt too superficial when compared to the raw expression of hopelessness that Bruce was now a perfect picture of.

So he didn’t say anything.

And definitely did not point out that even with all the copious self-flagellation, Bruce never actually said he was sorry, or apologised in a straightforward way that did not hinge on Dick performing mental parkour to arrive at such a conclusion. That was something rare for Bruce, to show such terrible emotions directly and not simply count on his partners being able to infer his meaning from a tilt of his head or the smallest grimace of his lips.

Instead Dick offered him an understanding nod. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t. “It’s alright.” It really, really wasn’t. But the time when Bruce always had to be the strong one was long gone, and now it was Dick that could never stumble or far worse, dare fall.

* * *

It was almost four in the morning, an hour and a half before Alf—

It was almost four in the morning.

He took his suit, happy to see it was in good shape, but didn’t put it on. Not yet. It was civvies only work first and Nightwing play later. Hopefully. His old motorcycle was nowhere in sight, and he briefly contemplated taking one of the batmobiles. But those had far too many trackers and redundant safety protocols, not to mention how big they were. He needed something sleek and fast, just like— Ah.

He went and woke up Damian.

“I’m taking your bike,” he whispered once Damian relaxed from the instantaneously assumed defence position.

“You’re leaving?”

Damn, Damian still sounded like a kid, especially when he said stuff like this.

Dick sighed. “I need to. Look, I didn’t tell B everything — hell, I didn’t tell him most of the things, so. You need to promise me not to share this, alright?”

“Who do you take me for?” Damian demanded, but it was far from harsh, almost veering into intrigue.

“I heard you had superpowers, after you got resurrected. It’s… kinda the same with me. Superpowers, I mean. A little bit. There’s this big, uh, entity, that was trapped in there with me and is now partially attached to my body.”

Damian was still calmly looking at him. Good.

“It’s not evil or anything, but it needs me to find something before it can leave me. And since I’m pretty sure it’s affecting how I… respond to things, I need it out as soon as possible.”

“Alright, Richard. I can be packed in—”

“You’re not coming.”

Instead of exploding in rage, Damian simply raised his eyebrows. “And where did that asinine idea come from?”

“This needs to — has to be done alone. I need you here, to run interference. You all have told me just how unstable Bruce has been, and I need you to keep him from going overboard.”

“Perhaps you should simply take up this foolish journey later?” Damian very sensibly suggested. When had his kid— nope, not going there.

“I wish I could, Dami, I really do.” He sighed. “But I can’t. And like I said, I need your help.”

“To contain Father?”

“That also. I’m not completely stupid, that’s why I asked for your bike. I won’t disable the trackers. I’ll even wear one of yours right on me, so you can keep an eye on me, alright?” And he smiled as he saw Damian’s eyes shine at that, the kid nodding at his words. “But you can’t share it with others. Or come find me. This…  _ thing  _ doesn’t seem to like others very much and I don’t know what I would do if it hurt you.”

“That is precisely why I should accompany you. You don’t know its motives, so it would be prudent to—”

“This thing was what kept me sane for five years, you know. It doesn’t want me dead. But I don’t know if I can protect anyone else. Besides, I won’t be totally alone. I still need to let all my friends know I’m back.”

Damian seemed to be considering his words. “You will undoubtedly leave no matter what I do,” he said. “And if I attempt to follow?”

“I will ditch the bike and disable all trackers. Please, Dami, I need this. Please!”

“One plea was enough, Richard. You know I would do anything for you. But this— it would be easier if you were asking me to follow you into Hell.”

Damn this kid! Dick could only stare at him in amazement, his clearly defined plan threatening to crumble into tiny pieces.

He persisted.

“I would never ask that of you.”

“Then why do you demand that I sit here and do nothing, just like I uselessly sat here and did nothing five years ago!?”

Ah. Shit.

He hugged Damian. “It wasn’t your fault,” he told him, “I’m so sorry, Damian, it was never your fault.”

* * *

The amount of supplies could only barely fit in the duffle bag and the non-descript gray backpack he liberated from Jason’s empty room. Served him right for not being there.

Damian’s access codes let him access the computer, and he first opened some relevant files, transferring them to his wrist computer. Afterwards he quickly implemented the long sleeping sleeper programs that would mask his exit, and stood back, examining his work.

Then he took a slow look over the entire cave, trying to memorise every inch of it.

**You will be coming back.**

Indeterminacy’s sudden appearance wasn’t a shock-worthy surprise anymore.

He replied out loud, mostly because he could and only a little because it felt like one-upping Indeterminacy. “Is that a prediction or the start of a motivational speech? Because you can skip the latter, thanks.”

It didn’t dignify him with an answer. He sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

**It is what you meant. But it was also unnecessary. You are not as reluctant to go as you struggle to appear.**

“That’s not—” he immediately started to deny it, but fell silent when he recognised the truth in its words. “I should’ve been concerned,” he explained, “when they came to me with their problems. But I mostly felt apprehension. It was only due to my feelings of familiarity and affection that I even tried as I did.” He raised his head, his eyes jumping around the empty cave like the entity was visible there somewhere, and he just had to find it. “My mind— you did something, didn’t you.”

**That is not so much a question as an accusation. Besides, what you are really wondering is whether it can be reversed?**

“Yes.”

**It was not my intent to cause such changes,** it explained, not that it soothed Dick’s annoyance any.  **It is simply the way human minds respond to me.**

“But can you reverse it? Fix me?”

**One could argue there is nothing that need be fixed.**

“One quite liked their life before, and would like it  _ back,  _ thank you very much!”

**But did you?**

That made him pause. “What?”

**Did you like it before? Your memories are predominantly traumatic, with moments of you being what you would deem ‘happy’ few and far between and seldom due to these people you claim to care about.**

And he was back to angry: “Not simply claim, I do care about them. I’m doing this so that I can come back to them in peace. You’ve said yourself that you don’t understand these types of human relationships — you have no ground to base your assessment on here.” He crossed his arms. “We do this and we’re through. And, since you need me for this, either shut up about things not connected to the mission, or quit criticising everything I love.”

**The mission. Already thinking in those terms.**

“You’ve seen my memories. It’s what I know. It’s the only thing I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donna and Wally finally appear in the next chapter and stick around till the end ! :)


	4. Ever just wish for some normalcy and then something like this happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth bit; kicking off his investigation with not a blast but a whisper.

His first stop was the very remote residence of one Dr Mateusz Billings, almost closer to Metropolis than Gotham, but no less gloomy for it. Well, ex-residence at this point, as Billings was by all accounts deceased and the residence destroyed in what had apparently been a superhero fight gone out of control. Dick made a note to send everyone involved gift baskets (the villains, too).

Half an hour of reckless but silent driving later the first rays of sunlight were just beginning to sneak past the cloud cover. The demolished and cordoned off group of white buildings he was heading towards were so even more striking against the dark background of the forest surrounding them at all sides. The compound wasn’t overtly huge, and it wasn’t necessarily the sight of the abandoned buildings that sent a shiver down his spine.

Indeterminacy immediately spoke up when they came into his line of sight. 

**What are you doing here? The artefact is nowhere close. Step away.**

He briefly wondered whether it was afraid, whether it  _ could  _ get afraid and what exactly was here that scared it so.

_ We need to see if there are any clues as to what Billings was going to do with that stone. Or what actually happened to it. _

There were plenty of tire marks on the ground, but no vehicles visible. He shut down the motorcycle and briefly closed his eyes to focus and listen as he gathered his resolve to continue. Wood creaking against wind and birdsong in the trees excluded, the place was completely silent.

Completely dead.

He disliked calling it that.

From his position in the driveway he couldn’t see the hole leading from the roof all the way to that fatal basement. It was probably behind the tallest and previously grandest of the buildings, until something had punched a hole straight through the second floor and collapsed the roof. The dark red streaks all over the fasade and the ground were probably blood and he entertained the notion of using a kit to test it out, but he had neither the time nor equipment to waste.

The other two buildings had been less affected by the fight and more by the normal passing of time that had started pulling tiles off the roof and stripping the paint off the walls. They didn’t seem particularly structurally sound either, but if he was careful enough, that shouldn’t matter.

He quickly hid his bike and secured the duffle bag, taking no chances. He was keeping his backpack with him, already slipping some rudimentary weaponry behind his belt for easy access.

Indeterminacy was silent as he approached the first building. The imposing double door was easily kicked open and he stepped into the foyer, his eyes already searching for anything that looked familiar from his previous stay there, not finding anything. He took another moment to listen to the silence before he continued, secure in the knowledge he was alone.

He hadn’t bothered with building plans and instead simply followed the stairs to the mostly intact first floor hallway. The rooms on both sides were open and he peered into each as he walked past. What few pieces of furniture remained were either broken or at least strewn around, and there were many footprints visible in the thick layer of dust that lay everywhere. 

But not enough dust for five years. He had no real way of telling when exactly Billings had visited them last, or how much later that researcher found them. It could have been a year, two, or even almost four. And had the house sat empty all that time? Did nobody move in? Nobody needed a quick shelter, a getaway spot, or even a hideout? 

Maybe he should have done more indepth research beforehand, but he didn’t have time for it, not if he wanted to keep ahead of Bruce. 

Which he absolutely  _ had  _ to, because… 

Because…

So, three years probably? Any and all personal objects as well as smaller household items were gone, either taken by the residents when they moved or probably by looters later. 

This would pose a problem, he realised, as he finally found the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. Stripped of all things except for the partially broken bed and an enormous wardrobe on the other end, the broken windows letting in the elements that slowly corroded the insides.

“Do you think this was Billings’?” he asked. 

**Is that not irrelevant? What do you hope to glean from such bare surroundings?**

Indeterminacy really didn’t seem to be pleased to be here.

“Hey, I’m the detective here. Although yes, I agree, this does seem rather like a fruitless search.”

The residents — the cultists — living here had abandoned this compound so long ago that all traces of them had disappeared, either because they took care to cover their tracks or because those tracks were later stolen or destroyed by nature itself.

“Let’s go to the basement,” he suggested, only slightly wincing at the memory of perpetual darkness.

Since the stairs were unusable, he climbed out of a window and then as far up as he could. The caved-in roof was leaning down towards a large hole near the other end of the building, and he carefully watched his step as he made his way towards it.

Looking into his prison from above made him realise just how small the circle had been and a cold hand squeezed his heart at the thought of falling down there, the shield once again snapping over him.

**Be careful,** Indeterminacy advised him.

“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes, “I was planning on breaking my neck before you said that.” He looked around for a way down, but it all seemed too unstable to risk hanging his whole weight off of it.

**Why not jump?** it prodded.  **You do that constantly. Or at least you used to.**

“You just asked me to be careful and now you’re impatient because I’m wary?”

**The best would be simply not to go down there, but it appears like you want to do that no matter what it takes. Providing advice seems like the best option of getting you out of here the fastest.**

Smart. And true.

In the end he ended up affixing a rope to a particularly sturdy looking support beam and partially fell, partially climbed down the three or so floors to the basement and his cell.

Even in the pale sunlight it was a daunting look, the circle partly obscured by stones strewn all over it, breaking the binding in multiple places. Yet he avoided the trap like plague, careful to step around it and not move even the smallest part of his body over the line. He even slashed the intricate carvings with a knife, creating an immovable fault to prevent the circle’s activation, but the deep apprehension remained.

He didn’t exactly know what he was looking for, but it wasn’t there. The walls were just as bare as he remembered them, the doors unmarked, and there was nothing but broken off rubble laying around, with some pieces of melted candles thrown in between and under.

“Fucking cultists,” he murmured, petulantly kicking a rock. “You were right. There’s nothing here.”

He kicked another rock, this one flying into a wall as he tried to find a silver lining to an otherwise failed expedition. “Unless,” he then said. “They were cultists, these fuckers. They were bound to have  _ some  _ secrets hidden in the house, right? Secret passages, secret safes, other secret shit. Even if— even if not for common use, simply for— they just had to have it. Billings definitely seemed like a man that was serious about what he did. And power hungry. He wouldn’t entrust anyone else with that, would he. Told nobody, showed nobody… Only he knew about them. And after his death — no one knew about them. Maybe they’re still here.”

* * *

**Have you found something?** Indeterminacy inquired.

Dick kept squirming at the wardrobe. If this was indeed Billings’ room, it made the most sense for a secret compartment to be in there, and the wardrobe was the only immovable object left that could possibly be hiding something. He hadn’t packed any x-ray goggles and was now slightly kicking himself for it.

“I guess we can just take the whole thing apart,” he said, but that would only work if the compartment they were looking for was a reasonable size and not something small enough to disguise itself as a simple plank. “Although it may take too long.”

**While my preference is to see the return of the artefact as soon as possible, there is most definitely enough time.**

“Not talking about you.”

**You fear the bat.**

“It's so weird, you saying that. You know both who he is and what he is to me. No, of course I don’t fear him. I never have.”

Indeterminacy must have taken a moment to consider his words as it spoke up after a brief silence.

**You fear for the bat.**

“Seriously, call him by his name,” he huffed. “This makes  _ me  _ sound like part of some cult. Speaking of, I need to get this done.”

A brief consideration of his equipment yielded no tools intended for what he had in mind, but he was handy enough to know which ones could be repurposed, and pulled out a mini blowtorch. His emergency sunglasses would have to do. 

**That will certainly take too long.**

“Not like we have much choice.”

**You do not.**

He was just about to quip something back about its atrocious conversation habits when it raised his arm, palm extended towards the wardrobe.

_ Hey, what the— _

Nothing changed, although later he would swear that his fingertips tingled for a second. Nothing changed but for the wardrobe that suddenly wasn’t.

He didn’t have a different way to describe it. No noise, no sudden whoosh of air, no flashy sparkles or even the slightest bit of movement that he was used to associating with magic or even speedsters.

All around him sat the pieces of the wardrobe, not merely disassembled but torn apart until the biggest piece was smaller than his hand -- almost like the world’s most complicated IKEA set. Even the small ornaments that he had previously assumed to be carved directly into the wood were separated, carefully lying next to each other on the ground in the still undisturbed dust.

“Or we could do that,” he said, his voice shaking only a little.

Then came anger, but it was quiet and restrained, far from the hot ire he had grown so used to fighting back: “I thought you couldn’t control my body anymore.”

**You did think so.**

“You  _ let  _ me think so. What else can you do?”

**You are wasting time.**

He allowed for the blatant change of topic. “We  _ will  _ talk about this,” he said instead. “You’re not doing it again. Not without my permission.”

**Not unless necessary.**

“Necessary, as determined by you? Not likely.”

But even in his irritation he had to concede that Indeterminacy’s approach had worked. He could now see a small bundle of rags amongst the numerous wardrobe pieces, as it was both bigger and the only item in yellow colour amidst the sea of brown and black. Picking it up determined it was too heavy to be just random patches of cloth, and unwrapping it revealed an oblong object of a metal substance that shone like silver with a bas-relief carved out on one side. The line that ran all around it hinted at it possibly being a capsule of some sort, with something important hidden in it, but he couldn’t pull it apart with his hands and he didn’t want to try prying it apart with power tools lest he accidentally destroyed whatever was inside.

The worst part was that Indeterminacy wasn’t even smug, just content, like it had seen this coming a mile away.

* * *

Dick had thought about asking it to put the wardrobe back together, but decided against it. The possibility of someone learning anything about Dick and his  _ parasite  _ from the remains was minuscule, and he didn’t want it doing more weird stuff with his body if he could help it.

**No need for rudeness.**

_ I thought you didn’t care? _

Annoyance. Uh oh, did he strike a nerve? Good question, did he? And which part exactly had annoyed it? Definitely not so that he could replicate it or anything.

They were speeding towards New York with what seemed to be far too much ease to be just a coincidence, but Dick had bigger things to worry about.

Not that Indeterminacy cared.

**Why New York?** it asked, or more appropriately, demanded to know.

_ Why not? _

**Stop being so flippant. Such attitude will not be tolerated.**

_ I’ve got some bad news for you; remember when you tore apart my mind and took over my body? You managed to destroy all the remaining fear that fifteen years of vigilanting hadn’t managed to before. Your threats don’t work on me. _

**And yet your flippancy remains.**

_ Oh, do not— go on, look! You’re in my head, so take a good long look and give me one, just one example of when I ruined a mission because I didn’t take it seriously enough! Taking things seriously has never been my problem, and I will not be cowed by you. _

**If you expect an apology, one will not be forthcoming.**

_ Yeah, I got long since used to that. _

**But what does need to be remarked upon is this. You are right to refuse to fear my threats. Your family is already to be protected from me and by me, but you yourself take priority for me.**

_ But— _

**This is final. You may not understand so, but that is how it is. Your survival is all that matters.**

_ But why? You can get someone else to find the stone, it doesn’t— _

**It does not work that way. Now cease your incessant questioning.**

* * *

**** The motorway was almost empty, a rather pleasant surprise for the mid-morning hour. 

This guaranteed that the sudden attack came out of absolutely nowhere.

The first hit exploded the road right in front of him, and the second one hit his bike during his mad swerve to avoid the debris from the first one.

He was catapulted off of the bike, doing a semi-awkward roll in the air to make his body the smallest target possible and hoping not to break every bone in his body when he landed on the unyielding concrete. He prepared for pain, for a brief period of blackness even as he hoped not to completely faint — but nothing like that happened.

The impact was far from the unforgiving slam onto the cold, hard concrete he had been expecting, but rather a solid fall onto a rather hard mattress from five feet of height.

“What the—” he coughed out, a quick check confirming that he was indeed lying on the road.

All his bones had stayed in one piece and he was already picking himself up by the time the next projectile hit the ground next to him. Except now he was both focused on it and close enough to see that it wasn’t a grenade or even an explosive round, but a nonsolid blast of energy, or maybe plasma. 

Which meant either very sophisticated weapons or a meta attack, the former quite possibly a hit, the latter either a hit or a random attack.

No time to get too into it.

The noise barrier would both shield him as well as draw the attackers away from the road and innocent bystanders, maybe even give him enough of a pause to change. He ran up its side and vaulted over the top, pulling his gear out of the bag as fast as possible.

Not fast enough. Well, fuck it.

_ Stay out of this,  _ he hissed at Indeterminacy, his mind helpfully supplying the approximate simulation of how its disassembling trick might look on a human, and he was not having more needles deaths on his conscience.

He strapped a belt around his hips and pulled out his escrima sticks. The leather attire and the helmet he had on were good enough protection for now. These bastards messed with the wrong guy!

And then they were there. Some over the barrier, some rather chose to blast a hole in it, and judging by the big dent, some had tried to ram their car through it.

Uniformly dressed in black and gray with no insignia, they at least moved like well-trained soldiers with human reflexes only and not enhanced or mutated to abnormal levels of capabilities. They clearly had a singular target, and it was Dick.

The first trio that reached him decided on hand to hand instead of simply shooting him, a strange choice that Dick would think about further later on, when he wasn’t busy breaking arms and kicking out knees.

Two went down like that, but the third was now trying to stay away from Dick’s reach. Their uniforms were thick, probably insulated and covered their whole bodies, so he upped the electricity to the max in the hope of getting through before striking with the sticks.

The body convulsed all the way to the floor.

He was immediately forced to jump away, the other soldiers now using their clean line of sight to take him out.

Except that nothing was even close to connecting. 

And you usually didn’t give out such advanced weaponry to people that seemed to fire worse than a drunk grandad.

The realisation dawned on him just fast enough for him to duck and roll away from the surprise assault the shots were herding him towards.

Ah, there was their vehicle. More of a tank than a simply armoured car. Overkill much?

Not that it would be any sort of ‘kill’, hopefully.

The explosives he launched at the tank probably wouldn’t stop it, but they would at least delay it long enough that Dick could deal with the others.

It was swift. None of his batarangs missed, none of the lines snapped or were cut, nobody even moved in a way he didn’t anticipate. His kicks connected, his jumps never missed, and he didn’t get so much as a graze, the leather suit thick enough to repel any and all sharp objects tried against it.

It went exactly as he thought it would, and that was a cause for concern.

* * *

The men tied up, the anonymous tip called in and the emergency services summoned, Dick now stood above what was left of Damian’s motorcycle.

His communicator connected on the third beep.

“I haven’t followed you,” was the first thing Damian said, “so pray tell why you took it upon yourself to destroy the bike?”

“It wasn’t me. I was attacked, but I’m pretty sure the one they were targeting was you, and I just got caught in the middle of it. Trying to capture me -- or you, specifically -- alive, I think. And they cursed in Russian. How many people have you shared your tracker data with, Dami?”

A moment of suspicious silence on Damian’s end. “Not many,” he slowly said, “certainly no one I hadn’t carefully considered and looked into. Are you—”

“I’m fine,” Dick interrupted him, eager to get to the point. “Look, they had no way of knowing where I was going to be other than the trackers, but this was definitely an ambush. So I’m going with the most obvious answer. At least that’s all I can think of right now. I’ll also limit my contact, who knows what could be on the phones. You need to be careful.”

“Tt. I’m always careful. I’ll find the rat on my end. Until then, even identifying yourself as Nightwing might prove problematic.”

Dick was just about to ask how so, when he realised that the tone of Damian’s voice was apologetic. Oh. Because if they were gunning after Flamebird, his partner in crime was a great bargaining chip.

“It’s fine,” he repeated. “Really, Dami, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Names!”

“Sure, li’l D,” he said and closed the line, turning back to the bike.

To the destroyed parts of the bike, more like it. Not even all of them. Some were firmly stuck in the road, still faintly smoking and definitely bent all wrong.

_ Can you fix this?  _ he asked, the picture of the disassembled wardrobe floating in his mind. It should be able to do it both ways, shouldn’t it?

**So this counts as necessary?**

_ Are we still arguing about that?  _ he groaned, hoping his exasperation was clear enough. This wasn’t the time for such arguments.

**The one arguing was you and only you. My proposition was clear.**

_ Please,  _ he tried.

**So quick to beg?**

_ I’m being polite, you douchebag.  _ Ah, and there went that, even before he’d managed to finish the sentence. Shit, he wasn’t usually this abrasive.

But it didn’t get angry, not even irritated with his curtness.  **That is definitely a new name for me.**

_ Said with far more affection than what you normally get called, I’d bet. _

**You might even be right.**

Were they already teasing each other? He honestly couldn’t decide whether he had chosen to do this in order to get Indeterminacy to lower its guard or because he genuinely wanted it to feel better. Both, possibly.

_ So, the bike?  _ he prompted.

**It would not be exact.**

_ If it works, it’s good enough. And you can leave the tracker out. _

He extended his hand forwards in anticipation, the palm facing the bike, and Indeterminacy laughed at him.

Or at least conveyed a series of intense emotions that he interpreted as extreme amusement on its part.

“Didn’t you do this before?” he asked, trying to see the humour.

**It was more of a courtesy to you than an actual necessity,** it replied.  **But nice of you to adapt so easily.**

And with those words, the broken down remains of the bike were no more, leaving Dick to look at a slightly leaner version now standing in front of him, although something was—

Ah. He had expected it to be brand new and clean, gleaming in the sunlight, but instead it remained speckled with dirt and mud, some of the paint even partially scratched away. It wasn’t even completely identical to how it looked before.

Functionally it seemed fine, but:  _ Did you by any chance fill the battery too? _

**Since you asked for a working motorcycle, all the parts are set in such a manner that it works. More cannot be asked for.**

_ Huh. I hope it’s full enough. _

He didn’t know it worked quite so literally.

* * *

When he was finally close enough, he made another call.

Indeterminacy read his thoughts.

**You were supposed to do this alone.**

_ I am  _ not  _ doing this alone,  _ he snapped back.  _ I won’t drag my-- I won’t drag Bruce and the others into this because their way of handling things would be anything but helpful, but I am  _ not  _ doing this alone. Deal with it. _

Surprisingly, it did.

After a couple of beeps the call was picked up by a very annoyed person.

“Flamebird, I have told you three times already — I am not joining any new teams you want to organise. Look, I like to stick it to the old bat just as much as you do, but not like this. Seriously, the next time you ask me I’m gonna stick something in you and it will be anything but pleasant, so quit—”

How had he missed her voice!

“Uhm, this is actually Nightwing.”

Now there was silence on the other end, and he hoped it was one of surprise and joy and not shock or distress.

The voice that now came through was tiny and shaking. “Dick?”

“Hey sweetheart. It is me.”

“Dick!!”

He tried to lean away from the speaker before realising it was in his helmet and that that wasn’t really possible, so he simply grinned and bore the yelling.

“Hello, Donna, guess who’s back!”

“Please, please tell me it’s really you!”

He chuckled. “I sincerely hope nobody in my family is cruel enough to try pranking you like this. What would you like as proof? Top five most embarrassing crushes? Top four mysterious substances we had to get Alfred to help us clean out of our clothing? Top three cameras you would sell your soul to own?”

“No need,” she said, her voice still shaking slightly but now at least no longer close to tears. “I’m— how? When? Oh forget all that, are you alright?”

“More or less,” he said, refusing to immediately dump everything on her. “That’s why I’m calling. I’ll be in New York in half an hour, so if—”

“Oh. I’m not in New York anymore.”

That… didn’t sound good.

“Everything alright?” he quickly asked.

Finally, she laughed, the most precious sound in the world. “Look at you, already worrying about me! Think about yourself for a change, honey.”

“Donna—”

“Nope, you lost your right to argue about this a long time ago. But look, I can be there in about two hours. Is there any way you could possibly wait for me?”

“But of course,” he confirmed with a smile. He was going to see Donna!

“Great! Oh, just a little question; you don’t have to answer, but have you called Wally yet?”

“Not yet. I was about to, actually. Why?”

“Nothing! I appreciate being the first one to know, that’s all. Alright, I’ll see you soon, love you, bye!”

He just barely managed to get in his ‘i-love-yous’ before she hung up and then kept smiling like an idiot.

**Is she also your family?**

_ Not by blood or papers, but I wouldn’t hesitate to call her my sister. _

**You love her more than your—**

_ It doesn’t— please don’t. It’s not ‘more than’, it can’t be ‘more than’, it’s just… different. I've known her much longer than my brothers. _

Next was Wally, just like he’d told Donna. Checking up on the status of his friends was one of the first things he’d done back at the Cave, and he’d been very glad to see none of them filed under ‘deceased’ or ‘missing’, although there had been a few other changes. And changes back, too.

“Hey, this is the very much unretired Flash, currently obviously not here, so leave a message and I’ll be right there in a flash!”

Still making corny jokes, still connecting his communicator to his phone, still doing great.

“Hey Walls, guess who. Yep, it’s me, and yes, I did call Donna before you. I’m in New York actually and would love to see you if you have time.”

He rattled off an address before ending the call.

**Another you would call brother?**

_ Wally? Oh, we’re definitely close, but calling him ‘brother’ would be just weird. It’s… a different close than Donna. Not better or worse — just different. _

**You are very defensive.**

_ Of course! Did you expect anything else? _

* * *

He drove straight to one of Bruce’s New York apartments. Bruce did own the whole building, but under an alias, and only the top penthouse was in the Wayne name. Or at least it used to be. He’d done a superficial check and it still looked operational — as a base, not as a simple living space.

The alarms were ridiculously easy to disable, obviously still working on the basis of the system Dick had helped set up so long ago. Which was slightly odd, as he would have expected a lot of improvements in the five years, but apparently it weren’t to be so. Additionally, no flying cars? The future was a joke!

The penthouse was well-equipped both with normal personal delights as well as more than a few pleasant surprises for the more spandex-inclined populace. He took a shower and then parked himself in the kitchen, barely giving the loaded shelves more than a glance.

“I’m not hungry,” he said aloud. “Not thirsty, either, or tired. Nothing even hurts, and it really should from that fall I took. Inde, what’s happening to me?”

**You have already figured it out and are now just asking for confirmation,** Indeterminacy stated.

“Maybe so.”

**Your body remains in the initially preserved state because otherwise you would not be able to contain me.**

“And that would mean my death?” he guessed.

**Most assuredly.**

“And I’m not allowed to die yet, I see. You know, you could’ve told me this.”

**You did figure it out, did you not?**

“I’m just saying, if you want me to trust you, you shouldn’t be keeping such secrets even if you think I’ll figure them out soon enough.”

**You think this is about trust.**

He tilted his head as he thought about it. “Isn’t it?” he finally asked. “We’re both dependent on each other. We need to successfully cooperate to resolve our situation. And to do that, we need to be able to trust each other.”

And before it could protest, he continued: “You may say you still hold enough power to force me to do everything you wish, but why were you then so adamant to guarantee me safety? To placate me that everyone I love would be safe too? You don’t need me just alive, but willing, too. And for that...” he spread his arms. “Well, trust is definitely an integral part.”

**Quite a detective.**

“That has ceased to be either a compliment or an insult long ago.”

**You are right.**

“Damn, twice in one conversation.”

**And you remain flippant as well.**

“Hey, it’s part of my charm.”

* * *

Dick decided to cook despite his lack of appetite. It would be polite to greet his guests with food, and Wally was bound to raid the fridge anyhow. But instead of a relaxing meal preparation that he could even enjoy slightly, he found himself gripping the counter tight enough for the tips of his fingers to turn white.

He couldn’t remember his favourite risotto recipe. The one he’d practiced with, perfected with Alfred—! He remembered just enough to know that it had been important to him, that he knew it was missing, but nothing more.

Indeterminacy remained silent even as he calmly packed away the ingredients he had prepared for the risotto and pulled out all the fixings for a simple vegetable soup. Learned from the internet, with no Alfred input to forget.

“I almost forgot,” he finally said as he was stirring in the last of whole pea pods. “Isn’t that ironic? I almost forgot that I have forgotten.”

He let the soup simmer as he took a seat behind the counter again. “I can’t believe I was just trying to convince you to trust me. Hell, you should be on your knees begging  _ me  _ to help you. Alfred was— Alfred was—”

He broke off, unable to put the enormity of what that man meant to him into simple words. Instead he trusted his emotions to get the point across.

“In my life people come and go constantly, and far too often the only thing I have left of them is my memories. I don’t think you could ever understand just how terrible what you did really was.”

More silence.

“I don’t think you even really care.”

* * *

Donna actually got to the penthouse sooner than in two hours she’d provided, her smile stretching her cheeks almost over the limit as she hugged him in a hug powerful enough to shatter ribs.

“Please never do that again,” she whispered in his ear as she held him in her arms. His heart clenched at the shaking of her voice and he wanted to pull back to reassure her, but she wasn’t finished. “Or I’ll break both your legs.” Ah, and there was the Donna he knew and loved.

“It isn’t like I wanted to get kidnapped,” he said, trying to defend himself.

She finally let him go, taking a step back to look him up and down. “No, but it also doesn’t look like you tried particularly hard to stop it,” she commented. “Five years! And you look… exactly the same. Don’t tell me—”

“Something like a stasis field, probably. I don’t really know it myself.”

“And you’re… fine?” she carefully asked, clearly expecting one answer while hoping for another.

Well, he was used to disappointing people.

“More or less,” he shrugged.

People that weren’t Donna, that was. Actually, he was used to disappointing one person in particular, but that tall, dark and moody wasn’t here yet. And while Donna was relatively tall and dark, she was far from moody.

“I hope for more but I am aware that it’s probably less,” she said, finally shrugging off her jacket. He caught it and folded it onto the chair, getting an eye roll from Donna in response. 

“So gentlemanly,” she teased him. “You just get back from being held hostage by a…”

She raised an eyebrow at him, prompting him to fill in: “A cult.”

“By a cult, and your first thought is to take me on a date? Scandalous!” She then fake gasped and pressed a palm over her mouth, her wide open eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Maybe I really should have just let B send you a freaking memo, if you’re gonna tease me like this.”

“Hey bird boy, that’s my job and you know it!” Then she grew serious again: “But if you’re not—”

“I’m alright, I swear, okay? It’s just… A couple of things. A long explanation, actually, and I would—”

He sensed the blur a moment before it connected with him, but didn’t bother tensing. That particular flash of red and silver was  _ very  _ familiar.

It swept him into his second bone-crushing hug today, twirling them around until he thought he was going to be sick, all the while spitting out words faster than he could fully comprehend them.

“YourebackmsohappyIcantbelieveyourebackImgonnakillBruceyourebackholyshitIloveyouyourefinallyback—”

“Hold on,” he said — yelled — over Wally’s enthusiastic greeting, finally prompting him to put Dick down and stop spinning, “what was that about killing B?”

“Is that  _ really  _ what you got from that?” Wally sheepishly asked, even as he continued to smile at Dick in the same way Donna had before.

“I think it was the most important bit, yeah,” Dick said, narrowing his eyes at Wally. “What did you do? No, wait, hold on, what did  _ he  _ do?”

“Ummm, only not tell me that my bestest bro has been found?!”

“And when did you have time to hang with B between early morning and now?” But a thought was already forming in Dick’s mind and he did not like it.

Wally, still in his uniform — but with quite some modifications, like the muted colours and the much smaller symbol — rubbed his neck, his eyes on everything except Dick.

Dick frowned: “Hold on, is this another Outsiders situation?”

Donna, who Dick might have rather extensively lied to about that particular mess given the fact it had been her death that pushed him into it, also frowned: “What Outsiders situation?”

An exchange of frantic glances between Dick and Wally resulted in them both failing to come up with a good enough cover.

“I’ll explain later,” Dick said instead. “I think I owe you something else first. And before you ask, yes, there’s food on the stove, Wally, do leave some for Donna.”

* * *

They were all sitting around the table, neither Donna nor Wally even trying to hide their numerous glances thrown his way as they ate.

“So it said it wasn’t a god?” Donna asked, looking pensive. “Mother goddess Gaea, or Gaia, however one may put it, is the mother of all life on Earth. She  _ is  _ the primordial force.”

“Well, it was quite adamant that it wasn’t her. That it was more than a god.”

“Yes, but which god? There’s a vast difference between, let’s say Triton and Gaea, as there is a difference between Gaea and the Presence.”

“Triton?” Wally asked, pausing his food inhalation for a moment. “Isn’t that the guy whose ass Aquaman kicked that one time? How can you guys worship someone like him?”

“He is Poseidon’s son and I see you wilfully avoiding what happened to Aquaman later,” Donna said. “At least, unlike some of you, we have concrete proof of our gods’ existence.”

“Alright, alright, let’s ignore that for a second. Donna, you have a good point there. This… entity hasn’t really told me much about itself and even then I don’t know if it was lying or not.”

“Has it demonstrated its capabilities?”

“Yes, but they didn’t extend above a strong telepath or someone well-versed in telekinetic use.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “The stasis-field, that I can’t explain yet.”

“But it doesn’t appear to be malevolent.”

“Not really, although I suspect it doesn’t fully understand our definition of evil. Oh, that reminds me — it said it was opposed to chaos.”

Wally groaned: “A Lord of Order?”

“Better than a Lord of Chaos,” Donna reminded him. “Imagine someone like Tuoni stuck in Dick.”

“Ugh, I don’t need  _ more  _ nightmares.”

“Maybe we should get Dove here,” Dick said. “Unless she’s on an urgent JL mission, but she could...”

He noticed their looks.

“What?”

“Uh, dude, Dove isn’t with the JL anymore,” Wally said. “Last I heard,  _ he  _ was flying solo. Well, duo, but definitely not in a group.”

“Oh.” He wondered what happened to Dawn. Nothing good, he guessed.

“And a Lord of Order wouldn’t work like that anyways,” Wally continued on. “Oh please, what’s with that face? Of course I took a look at the files, I’m a responsible League member!”

Aaaand Wally just reminded them all of the very big and bright elephant in the room.

Judging by Donna’s sour expression, she realised it at the exact same time Dick did.

“Oh, the League,” Dick drawled out, “and how are they doing these days?”

Wally shrunk down under his and Donna’s angry glares. “Pretty good,” he mumbled out. 

Dick took pity on him and turned his glare on Donna. “Pretty good, he says. Completely unlike the Titans since they don’t even exist anymore!”

Donna defiantly crossed her arms. “And you would blame us?” she spat out. “We lost Roy, and then we lost you, and you expect us to just go on?” Before he could answer, she continued: “Remind me exactly what  _ you  _ did after my and Lilith’s deaths? C’mon, please  _ do.” _

Ah, so she was aware of … that whole mess. He wondered whether it had been Wally or Roy or maybe even somebody else that told her. He stared right back: “You’re stronger than me. Of course I’d hoped you would carry on.”

“Oh, you are  _ not  _ flattering me out of arguing!”

He wanted to protest that he hadn’t intended to do so, but knew she wouldn’t be appeased that easily. 

“Besides, it wasn’t only my choice. After we spent so much time looking for you and getting nowhere — well, it was bad. Do you think anybody wanted to stay after we failed two of our members?”

He wanted to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and reassure her that they hadn’t failed, that he was back and that all would be well. 

But he couldn’t.

“So we disbanded. Lilith disappeared of her own free will, telling us not to look for her. Garth and Wally joined the League, although Garth spends most of his time in Atlantis. And I — I guess I did the same thing as Lilith, moving away from it all.”

He hadn’t wished this for them, he had never wanted to be the one to drive them apart like that, and they didn’t even blame him?

“Victor is still with the League, Gar with Young Justice, and Kory the liaison for the current Teen Titans. Raven sometimes consults with JL Dark. So in a way we did go on, just not the way we probably should have. The way you wanted us to go.”

‘But you were missing and this is how it is’ went by unsaid.

* * *

When Donna excused herself to take an important call, Dick finally turned to Wally: “So it  _ is  _ an Outsiders’ situation?”

“Dude, I just said I met Bats today — where did you get that idea from?”

Dick simply raised an eyebrow.

Wally immediately caved. “Ok, maybe! Did Bruce tell you? No? Ugh, why do I even ask, of course he didn’t. Yes, it is a relatively covert mission team, yes, it is led by Bruce, yes we do often pretend it doesn’t exist. I don’t even think we have an official name.”

“And what does he need a secret team for?”

Wally bit his lip. “I didn’t tell you anything,” he said. “You did not hear this from me, ok?”

“Whatever will make you feel better.”

“It was for you. We were looking for you at first, after the League — after the League decided they couldn’t waste any more time on you,” he spat out. “So Bruce got some people together and we kept looking for you. And then, later, when it became obvious we weren’t getting anywhere, we took up other missing person’s cases. Hoping that we would stumble upon a clue or something that would lead us to you.”

That was both incredible as well as terrible to hear. The rational mind screamed at them that they should have moved on, should have continued with their lives, while the emotional part felt touched that they never forgot, never gave up on him. Even — especially! — Bruce! Oh, B, why hadn’t he said  _ anything?  _ And now Dick felt bad about just leaving like that. He resolved to at least send a voicemail to calm the man.

“Who was — who is on the team?” he asked.

“Besides me and Bruce? Kory, Duke, Kara, Selina, and sometimes even Rose.”

“And they were all there, together, without arguing?”

“Pretty much. Just for you, Dickie."

“Never call me that again.” A particular absence surprised him. “No Damian?”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know about it. Which is maybe for the best. He  _ really  _ doesn’t get along with his dad.”

“I wonder whose fault is that,” Dick rolled his eyes.

Wally winced. “Probably the League’s.”

“Because they told B to stop searching and he complied, at least publicly? Well, he should have explained this to Dami, then maybe he wouldn’t have lost another kid in an ugly imitation of my own end as Robin. This is what B does. Because he thinks we’ll get hurt if we stick by him, never even considering just how hurt we’ll get when he throws us away.”

Wally didn’t comment but simply stared at him and Dick was about to snap back when Donna walked in.

“Did I miss much?” she asked.

They shared another look.

“Nothing at all.”

* * *

“So I actually called you here for a reason that was not just hugging each other and yapping about the past, as much as I love it,” he began, looking at them over the emptied table onto which he’d deposited a laptop and a couple of monitors. “I was… tasked with finding a certain object.”

“Seems like a simple task for the world’s greatest detective,” Wally nodded.

“I am  _ not  _ taking this to B,” Dick adamantly refused. 

Wally and Donna exchanged an exasperated glance then turned to him with twin looks of disbelief paired with pity and he flushed.

“Dude, you’re way too high-strung. So what’s the deal?”

“I really don’t have much to go on. The object looks just like a stone, so there’s no way of simply using object recognition systems. I also don’t have any actual leads, except for the name of the man that briefly had it in his possession as well as this… amulet I found that I suspect of being his.”

He showed them the metal thing and let them inspect it even as he opened up the laptop and began typing. “I already found some data on Billings — that’s the guy’s name, by the way — on the Crays, but I suspect or, more accurately, hope that the League has more information.”

And he spun the computer around so it was facing Wally, who frowned. “Why are you giving me the computer job? You’re the one actually good at that shit.”

“Your login information, please,” Dick rolled his eyes. “For the League?” he added after neither moved.

Wally reluctantly pulled the laptop towards himself. “Why don’t you just use yours?”

“I don’t know if B has reactivated it yet.”

More staring.

“Dick, it was never deactivated.”

“Well that’s just dumb! What if I’d been tortured into revealing the codes?”

“I really think we would just be happy to know you were still alive.”

“Alright, no more morbid conversation,” Donna intervened. “Wally, give him the freaking login. Dick, you once found all three of my parents because of a doll. This will work, alright? Now let me see. I think I recognise that symbol.”

She held the oblong in her hand for a moment, turning it around and gently brushing with her fingers. “Weird coincidence,” she finally said. “Do you know who this symbol belongs to?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “The Titans.”

“Uh, I think I would remember having that as a symbol,” Wally attempted a joke.

Nobody laughed.

“The god Titans, obviously. All of the old Titans, before the split. But it’s too crudely made for it to be made by them, or to be of Amazonian origin. It doesn’t seem to be old at all. I suppose it belongs to a group or a single someone that worships the old Greek gods.”

Now Wally took the object out of her hands. “It’s not made of silver. I think it’s titanium, although handled by someone who didn’t really know what they were doing.” 

It was Donna that asked Dick: “Not that I’m not happy that you’re reaching out, but you could have figured this out on your own. Was this so that we would feel included?”

“I wouldn’t patronise you like that.”

A raised eyebrow of disbelief.

Well, best to simply blurt it out and hope for the best. “Maybe, ok, but I’m not doing it now. The truth is… the truth is that this  _ thing  _ poked a bunch of holes in my memories and now I can’t tell if I simply don’t know something or if I have forgotten it, if I’m supposed to know something or not!”

Aaand there was the pity. 

He continued talking, as then they weren’t able to say anything: “I don’t remember your parents’ names, Walls, or the name of Donna’s first studio or how Terry even looked like. I don’t know who Bumblebee is, I just know her name. And I don’t know what Argent is, although I’m pretty sure I was supposed to say ‘who’ right there, judging by your expressions. I don’t know anyone’s phone number, or address — not even my own! I know that I love Jules Verne yet I can’t remember the plot of any of his books. I don’t— I don’t even know what else I’ve managed to forget.

“So yes, I asked you here to help me because even with so many of my memories missing, you two remain someone who I can trust unconditionally. No tears, please,” he added when he noticed what their faces were threatening to do.

“You can’t just say something like that and then expect us to ignore it!” Wally wailed. “Have I told you that I love you already? Because I really really do.”

“What a sap,” said Donna, reaching forward to gently cover Dick’s hands with hers. “We’re more than glad to help you, ignore this idiot. It’s going to be alright.”

A shy smile was all he was capable of, but it seemed to be enough for her.

“Now,” she said, taking the titanium object back from Wally, immediately focused back on their business, “I might have said that this is the symbol of the old Gods, the Titans, but it’s not exactly… right.” She pointed at a particular line: “I think this is supposed to be Chronus’s sickle, but that’s not what that looks like.” 

But as she pressed onto the raised part to indicate where it should have been, the carved part shifted with her finger, slotting into the right position. Something clicked, and the oblong sprang open.

“That… shouldn’t have happened,” Donna said. 

“Hey, you figured it out! That’s exactly what should have happened!”

She shook her head: “Except that it only moved when I used more strength than a human should be capable of. Was Billings a meta?”

Dick finally looked up from the paper he had pulled out of the capsule. “Nothing in his files says that. He certainly never used any powers when I was around.”

“It seems like a strange two-step authentication,” Wally mused. “I mean the Titan thing is kind of obvious if you know anything about Greek gods, isn’t it? A passcode would be harder to guess. And if you need super strength to open it, you could instead just rip it apart.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Dick said. “It might be a trap.”

“Or the Titans symbolism might have significance for this particular sect,” Donna countered. “You said yourself you dealt with a cult, didn’t you? It could be due to religious reasons. And maybe you don’t need superstrength to open it, maybe I just did it wrong.”

“Yeah, but what if—”

Dick quickly interrupted Wally before those two could devolve into a proper argument and waved the found paper between their noses: “Let’s just look at what we found and  _ then  _ decide whether it is a trap or not, huh?”

It was a set of two equations with three variables and a short note underneath that said USE EUROPEAN DATE FORMAT ONLY.

“Math? Are you kidding?”

“Hey, our resident geek should have little trouble deciphering this.”

Dick stared at the equations. “Unless I have also forgotten everything I ever knew about math. Why is that number written so small and that high up?”

There was only silence and he looked up into two faces frozen in fear. “I’m kidding,” he said. “I might not remember all the formulas and tricks, but even so, you guys do know there’s a ton of computer programs we could use for this?”

“And give Luthor access to  _ another  _ evil scheme he hasn’t managed to get his fingers on yet? No thank you,” Wally said, crossing his arms.

“What I think I remember from school is that you usually have the same number of variables as the number of equations in a set you’re trying to solve,” Donna pointed out, “is one equation missing?”

“We're actually looking only for one variable, not three,” Dick explained. “I mean the other two are the day and the month.”

Donna and Wally exchanged a glance.

“So I can’t decide whether this is one of those leaps of logic you bats annoyingly keep doing or you’re just trolling.”

Dick frowned: “I thought it obvious, given that the note says to use the European date format only.”

Another exchanged look and Donna took the note into her hands. “I can certainly make out the word ‘format’ and maybe ‘European’, but the other words have far too many y-s in them for me to decipher.”

Dick pulled back the note: “What are you talking about, it’s clearly in English and—”

Except now that he looked at it again, he realised that it wasn’t. It was in fact in a language he didn’t speak, or had thought himself unable to speak until— until Indeterminacy.

“It’s in Polish,” he muttered. “Billings had a polish mother, and probably also spoke Polish.”

“I didn’t know you knew Polish,” Wally ventured.

“I don’t.”

* * *

“A mobile HQ,” Donna immediately proposed when they realised the two four digit numbers were representing a changeable latitude and longitude of something.

“I was going to say a satellite, but that’s actually a better idea,” Wally agreed. “Something relatively slow moving. Either floating or they switch between land- and sea-based vehicles.”

“Or at least an outpost if not the HQ,” Donna continued. “With this formula you can tell exactly where it is going to be on a particular day so you can easily arrange to meet it.”

“So whose plane are we stealing?” Wally asked.

“I’ll leave that up to you two,” Dick decided. “I think I have some calls to make and some messages to leave.”

“Oh man, do  _ not  _ rat me out!”

“What? Sorry, Wally, I’m too busy composing a speech to tell B exactly how you—”

This time Dick did try to avoid the blur, but was unsuccessful and got tackled to the floor instead. 


	5. Veering even more off course than before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fifth bit; Dick sends some voicemails and kicks some ass.

“Heya, B, sorry for — well, I’m not sorry for running off. When I come back and explain, you’ll understand everything. I’m certain you would have done the same in my position, although that might not mean anything to you. But I am sorry for not telling you. And also not sorry for telling Damian. It wasn’t because I don’t trust you, it was _because_ I trust you. Trust you to be yourself. After fifteen years I know how you’ll react probably better than even you do, sometimes. And that reaction wasn’t what I needed, wasn’t what was required — you understand that, don't you? To put our emotional bonds, relationships aside for the sake of the mission? You’ve done it plenty enough.

“Sorry. That was out of line.

“Why am I always the one apologising?

“Nevermind. Just rambling. I’m doing alright, by the way. And I’m not alone, but you aren’t allowed to yell at them because I asked them to be here and they would never say no to me.

“So relax. I’m coming back, I promise.”

* * *

“Hey Babs, sorry for not calling earlier. I know B has already told you that I’m back, so this shouldn’t be too much of a shock. Right?

“I’m recording this as a message because I don’t actually want to talk to you right now. I know it was five years ago for you, but for me it feels maybe not quite like yesterday but definitely too close for comfort. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear and—

“Huh. You know what I just realised? That we might have made up and I’ve forgotten all about it. Yeah, that’s something I haven’t mentioned yet — haven’t even told B about it, actually, and I bet he’s going to be super mad when he inevitably finds out. I’ve got so many holes in my memory it truly looks like Swiss cheese at this point. I think I even managed to forget what you majored in. Please don’t tell me I never bothered to find out?

“What I wanted to say was that even so I miss you. As soon as I’m back from where we are going (yes, don’t worry, I’m with a group of trustworthy people. I’m not lone-wolfing this), I’ll come visit you, okay?

“Okay. I just now waited for an answer, like an idiot. See you soon, Babs.”

* * *

“Hey Duke, I’m really sorry I missed you. At this point you probably already know that I have also “gone missing” again. I know that this is a voice message and you can’t actually see the air quotes I put up around those two words, but that is what it is. Ask Damian, he knows more about it. And I’m sorry in advance — or has it already happened? — for all the additional barking and angry grunting Bruce is about to do.

“I also heard about the cover ops team. That’s… You know what, I have a lot of things to say about that, which true, is mostly yelling at B, but also—

“Okay, this might be better in person. I hope you get home soon.

“I hope I get home soon.

“Whoops, that sounded too morbid. But seriously, don’t worry about me. Rather pick a bar for your 21st. I missed so many birthdays, I’m happy to be here for at least that one.

“Shit. I missed so much. I missed seeing you grow up, Duke. I don’t— I haven’t pulled your profile or any pictures. I wanted — I want — to see you in person. I hope you haven’t changed your costume, it’s a really good one. Super smart, wearing a helmet.

“I hope your mission’s going well. Kick their butts, li’l bat.”

* * *

The procured plane (borrowed from an emergency hangar storage; Dick didn’t ask whether it was the League’s, Titans’ or Bats’, but going by the decor probably not that last one unless B had a change of heart in the recent years) was put on autopilot as its intrepid crew gathered in the small cabin that served as the common area, the kitchen, and the crew quarters all at once.

“You're really not one to hurry us into a mission without proper research, planning, and any and all other preparation,” Donna said. “Is there a time limit we don’t know about and probably really should?”

“No, no, I just— I just want to get rid of it as soon as possible.”

Her face immediately dropped. “Oh _honey.”_

“It’s fine. We can still come up with a plan, since we have more than enough time before we get there. RIght, Wally?”

“An hour and a half. Approximately. Or do you want it to the exact second?”

“No, thank you. And that’s pretty fast, I see you guys got better tech.”

“We didn’t just sit on our asses for five years,” Wally fired back then immediately blanched. “Shit. Sorry.”

That was it for Dick. “Guys, stop treating me like some fragile flower. How am I supposed to trust you in the field if I feel like you will be too busy coddling me to properly engage?”

“That was low, Dick,” Donna said, crossing her arms. “You really think we would do that?”

But Wally lowered his head. “I would,” he admitted. “I don’t want to, but Dick, you have no idea how horrible it was without you. I don’t think I could do it again.”

Dick didn’t think that mentioning how he had managed to carry on when Wally and Donna had died (thankfully not simultaneously) would help in any way, so he refrained from answering.

* * *

The plan was rather straightforward and pretty unsubtle, especially for Dick. 

The zeppelin they were hunting was, according to the League satellites, travelling around three miles above ground. Their plane had stealth capabilities, which would be used to drop their resident skydiver off above the blimp while Donna approached carrying Wally from below.

They would hit the gondola simultaneously from both sides in order to herd all personnel into one spot and prevent any escape, while also sweeping the place at the same time.

That was their plan, and unlike literally any other Titans mission, absolutely nothing went awry.

* * *

Dick was twirling one of his escrima sticks and staring at the tied-up prisoners when Donna and Wally approached him, Donna sheathing her sword and Wally snacking on a power bar.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Donna said, “and before you try accusing me of jinxing us, Flash, let me remind you I almost dropped my shield because you wouldn't move when I told you to, so you are banned from teasing anyone right now.”

“I knew what I was doing!” Wally pouted. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Guys!” Dick called. “Can we focus?” He gestured at their prisoners and switched to French, because he knew that both Wally and Donna spoke it, but their spectators hopefully not. “There’s fourteen of them, which is how many we expected, but nobody is dressed in command garb.”

“You think we missed one?” Donna asked, also in French. “Flash—”

“On it,” he said and disappeared. “Alright, I didn’t find anyone,” and he was back already. “This place isn’t that big, so I have no idea where someone could hide. Do you think these guys know anything about it?”

“Troia?” Dick said, tilting his head towards the group. She nodded and pulled out her lasso.

The first man caved in as soon as it wrapped around him.

“There’s a fifteenth, our holy leader,” the man revealed in Russian. Holy? There hadn’t been any holy symbols on the ship, or at least Dick hadn’t seen anything. 

The man continued: “He’s always with us!”

“So where is he?” Donna asked, leaving the translation for Wally up to Dick, who was carefully observing the rest of the group as the one under Donna’s lasso spilled all their secrets. 

They didn’t seem too worried about it. Which was worrying all by itself. 

“I don’t know! He was with us and then he disappeared when you burst in!”

The others were almost smug, more like it. Had they been expecting this? Was this really a trap? Dick had five whole dollars riding on it, after all. Nobody said no to a bet with.

“What’s his name, at least?”

Wally had checked the whole capsule and didn’t see the man anywhere, which could mean a variety of superpowers — anything from invisibility or teleportation to Clayface-like morphing abilities — or it could mean something much, much simpler. If the commander wasn’t _inside_ , what was stopping him from being _outside?_

“We call him the Devoted.”

There was a barely audible thump close to Dick, muffled like it came from the other side of the light metal that constructed the gondola. He noticed Donna’s delayed blink, an indication that she had heard it as well. It took only a discrete hand signal to alert Wally.

“To whom?” Donna asked, playing along even as she tightened the lasso in what was bound to appear a threatening gesture and not her gathering the man closer to protect him with her body.

The thump from outside was louder this time, followed immediately by the sound of the metal wall shattering underneath the blow of the monstrous figure attached to the capsule on the outside.

But it didn’t give them the time to gawk at it. Instead, it roared and launched itself and a number of broken wall pieces at them.

Dick went high, Wally went low, and Donna, stepping between the thing and the prisoners with only her shield in front of it, took the brunt of the attack.

It didn’t move her even an inch back and the monster stared at her in confusion.

Giving Dick plenty of time to take it in. Very much humanoid, had probably been a human up until a few moments ago, the remnants of clothing still stuck around its wrists and neck. Definitely human eyes, but the body more of a gorilla than anything else.

“Flash, you’re on prisoner detail. Don’t let them get hurt. Troia, take care not to destroy the ship too much. We need to stay in the air.”

He pulled out his escrima, turning them on. “How terrible would it be if I said Titans, go?”

Donna had finally pushed the monster — the Devoted — off of her and was tugging the lasso free. “On a scale from one to ten, seventeen.”

“Alright then, wonder twins and speedy, let’s go!” he yelled, just barely ducking the angry fists that came flying his way and ignoring the angry yell from Wally. Donna was quietly laughing even as she took a step back to launch herself on the Devoted’s back.

It stopped trying to hit Dick in order to grab Donna and fling her off, but that only gave Dick unrestricted access to the beast’s abdomen and neck. It promised to be a very painful mistake.

He struck.

His strength was probably negligible against the powerful muscle that rippled underneath the Devoted’s skin, but the electric shocks went right through. “Clear!” he yelled out, hoping that Donna still remembered that particular codeword and lifted any uninsulated parts of her body from the Devoted’s skin, and her answering: “Copy!” was a good indicator she did, in fact, remember it.

The Devoted roared out in pain, its priorities changing from trying to remove Donna to trying to squash Dick.

He prepared to jump away when Wally suddenly appeared next to him. Dick was in fact so ready to jump that his knee hit Wally in the chin and sent him stumbling back just past the flying fists.

Dick himself wasn’t so lucky, one of them catching his leg and the other one missing his head by less than an inch, and that had more to do with Donna throwing her shield to steer it off course than Dick himself being bendy.

“What the hell, man?” Wally yelled from where he got thrown. “I thought—”

“No time,” Dick said, already rolling away from the Devoted’s reach. “Help Troia!”

Donna clearly had a plan in mind as she began herding the beast towards Wally, her hands flashing into a series of signals that Dick couldn’t decipher from where he’d collapsed.

The snap he’d felt didn’t bode well, and he could swear his leg was bent the wrong way when he’d glimpsed it during his rolling. But he couldn’t afford a broken leg, not right now. So he stood up and ignored the… complete lack of pain? Not even a twinge, and he tried spinning on it to no effect — it didn’t hurt at all.

A pleasant surprise, and he was—

“Nightwing, stop prancing around and help!” yelled Donna, and he turned around to spot her wrestling the Devoted into submission as Wally ran around tying him up in her lasso.

“On it!” Dick yelled back, launching himself at the monster. Just like Donna before he landed on its back, but unlike Donna, he didn’t have strong enough punches to make it turn around. Luckily he seldom depended on strength. The two wingdings were most certainly not playing fair, but trying to emulate Marquess of Queensberry meant not trying to survive.

He stabbed them in the Devoted’s ears, hoping to at least pierce the eardrums just in case he didn’t manage to reach something even more vital.

The Devoted roared in pain and reared up. He scrambled forwards to avoid getting bucked off, and realised he would have to jump from its head.

“Here!” 

Donna’s voice. He launched himself off of its head without looking, only spotting Donna’s shield once he made it past its shoulders. She was already on one knee, her arms holding the shield at an angle that made it rather easy to land on. Then she was jumping up and pushing forwards with all her strength, launching him back into the air and straight at the Devoted’s head.

Dick hit it escrima first, knees second.

The Devoted staggered for a short step before its bound legs tripped it and it went down, hard.

Dick flipped away just in time, landing in a graceful bow next to Wally, who offered him a fist bump.

“I see you haven’t forgotten everything,” Wally teased him, but Dick couldn’t help but wince at the reminder of his fuckup and how he subsequently managed to hit Wally. That could have been really bad. What other signals had he forgotten? What other essential tactics or codewords?

“Hey, no time for your breakdown,” Donna reminded them both.

Dick nodded. “You’re right. We need to secure this thing, and then we need to—”

The ship shook, the shock almost sending them to the floor and very adeptly interrupting their conversation.

Wally was staring somewhere behind them. “Fix the ship?” he asked. “Good idea!”

One of the broken pieces of the wall, used as a projectile by the Devoted, had lodged itself into the control panel, something they had missed in the excitement of the fight.

“That’s… not great,” said Donna. 

The floor was now sloping, the entire gondola slowly tilting to the front as the controls continued to sparkle and feed the small flame growing in their middle. It was quickly joined by more bigger fires on the edges.

“Maybe we can fix it?” Wally nervously suggested.

“I can try to land it,” Donna calmly suggested.

“Before the whole balloon ignites, hopefully. One spark and this whole thing goes boom.”

“Man, didn’t Hindenburg teach these people nothing?” Wally complained. “I thought they used helium now!”

“They’re Russian,” Dick said. “They don’t have access to quantities large enough to be worth it. It’s probably hydrogen in this one. I can’t believe I forgot to check.”

“We’re all gonna die,” Wally muttered.

“Okay. New plan. Troia, start carrying these people down to ground. How many can you take at once?”

Donna considered the prisoners. “I don’t think I can hold more than two and still fly fast. I could try three, but I don’t want to accidentally drop anyone.”

“Eight trips plus us, should be doable. Alright, while you do that, Flash and I will try to fix that mess and land the blimp.”

“What if it explodes?” Donna asked.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“Uh, Nightwing, the expression goes—”

“Flash? Hush.”

* * *

Neither Dick nor Wally knew anything about zeppelins besides what they researched before arriving, so Dick was pulling up schematics while Wally tried to keep the flames at bay and sparks to a minimum.

“This whole part is burned,” Wally realised. “It looks — it used to look like a circuit board, probably. Linked to, uh, the main controls for the engine. Should we worry? We probably should.”

“Are any cables or wires still usable?”

“You mean the ones attached to this thing? Uh, all plastic melted, but I think the wires survived.”

“Can you bypass the board?”

“Partially. Alright, done. Try now.”

Dick flipped a few switches, but nothing happened.

“Alright, that’s a problem,” Wally said. “Any other ideas?”

“One, but it is emergency use only.”

“Bro, this _is_ an emergency!”

“Not yet. We’re still airborne, aren’t we?”

Something loudly and ominously creaked above them.

“You just had to say it,” groaned Wally and sped towards the hole to check the damage. 

“The capsule is breaking apart,” he reported when he came back. “And we still have six people up here, not counting that beast or us.”

“Then it is an emergency,” Dick nodded. “Alright. Prepare the prisoners for a jump. Maybe they will even know about a parachute or two. Maybe even take my skydiving equipment.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll try the console again.”

* * *

The console was useless, but that hadn’t been Dick’s plan anyhow. He didn’t lie to Wally, he did have a plan, but it wasn’t guaranteed to work. It should — it definitely would have, five years ago, but this wasn’t five years ago.

“Some days I’m a super bitch,” he quietly sang out in what he hoped was a passable imitation of the right rhythm.

“Up to my old tricks,” and the lever he was trying to pull up broke off.

Great. He plopped it onto the ground and stomped out the smouldering pile that threatened to become a fire next to his feet. “But it won’t last forever,” he added.

Then, more lively and even with a small swing of his hips, the central part: “Next day I’m your super girl.”

Wally joined him just before the: “Out to save the world,” part, giving him a confused look. Dick smiled and finished with: “And it keeps gettin’ better.”

“If you want karaoke, we can do that after we survive this fall, ok?”

Another ominous creak and they were soon standing next to the open ‘hatch’ in the capsule wall, next to the terrified group of men. Donna had in the meantime taken down two more and was coming up for the second to last pair, and Wally hadn’t managed to procure a parachute but had found Dick’s skydiving gear for one person, which left the Devoted, the last man, and them both unsecured.

Another creak, this one both louder and longer as if the structure itself around them was groaning.

Dick and Wally shared a look. Then they were both yelling “Jump!” at the same time as pulling the two remaining people into freefall.

* * *

At the altitude the zeppelin had been maintaining just before their jump, which was a little more than two miles above ground, it would take them roughly forty seconds to reach the ground.

Dick felt oddly elated to be in completely free free fall. If it were only him, he would simply close his eyes and—

**Not open them again?**

_You!_

He had pushed it aside in his mind, so happy to be in the company of his old friends again and preoccupied with the relevant mission to think exactly why they were doing all of this for.

**You are not allowed to die, remember that?**

_I don’t need your help,_ he stubbornly said. _I can do this on my own, you know._

**Really? Right, your Amazon friend is hurrying back so she can save you. Except that that is not going to happen, is it. She is going to save the other two humans first, and then try to land the zeppelin safely so it does not explode into a residential building. Leaving you two to… Well, you know what will happen. You are intimately familiar with the aftermath of falling, are you not? Leaving you as the sole survivor. Again.**

Dick couldn’t protest Indeterminacy’s conclusion even as he ignored the cruel tease at the end. Instead he focused on the ace he was waiting for.

Thirty seconds to impact. Donna was bringing down the second pair.

He mouthed the words again, the wind whipping past him too fast to carry any sort of a sound. “Next day I’m your super girl, out to save the world, and it keeps gettin’ better.”

Twenty. Donna was manhandling the zeppelin with far less finesse and far more speed that such a careful operation called for. Wally grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Dick gave him a wink.

The blue and red blur that hit them was right on time.

* * *

“I can’t believe this is how I find out! Dick, you’re a total— a total— a total dick! And you, idiot from another mother, you saw me at the freaking meeting and didn’t tell me! Guaah! I’m gonna kill you _both_ and then — and then I’m gonna kill you freaking all over again!!”

She had long since stopped hugging them and started berating them. Or, more appropriately, insulting them.

“Hey, I didn’t know about him being back when I was at the meeting either!” Wally tried to absolve himself of all the guilt. “Blame Batman, he was the one that knew and didn’t tell us!”

“That— that furry idiot?! I’m gonna kick his ass right after I kick yours, and yours too!” she whirled towards Dick, who made a note to use Kara’s anger at the presumed betrayal to blackmail Clark later on. “You little asshole!”

“You’re still shorter than me, Kara,” Dick reminded her, “and it’s not even close.”

“Don’t joke about this,” she hissed, “you absolute jerk! Christina Aguilera, are you serious?!”

“Do you know how hard it is finding songs that are about Supergirl and not Superman? I was running out of material!”

“Then you could just yell for my help, like a normal person!” As soon as she said that, she groaned and Dick literally cackled.

“When do I do _anything_ normal?”

“Shut up, you infuriating man,” Kara moaned and turned to Donna: “How’s the only smart person on this team doing?”

“I’m doing great, thank you,” Donna said, her eyes still on Dick and Wally. “And how is the only other person with manners in this room doing?”

Dick also did not point out they were outside.

“I’m doing very well,” Kara smiled. “Not like I was in the middle of a super important study group and I had to just run off with the lamest excuse ever.”

“What do _you_ need a study group for?” Wally asked, like he hadn’t _just_ gotten off the interrogation chair. “Can’t you just… speed read the material and like, imprint it into your mind?”

Now both Donna and Kara gave him a glare.

It was Dick that reached in to save his poor friend. “The point, Walls,” he said, “are the people. More probable, a single particular person, probably very handsome and—”

“Alright!” Kara yelled, suddenly as red in the face as Wally’s suit. “Alright, shut up, shut up.” She looked around in a blatant attempt to change the topic to something else: “So what are you all doing in…”

“Russia,” Donna filled in.

“In Russia? Hold on, I thought there would be more snow.”

“We’re almost at its southern border,” Dick explained even as an idea began to grow in his mind. “Say, if you already bailed on your people, could you do us a favour?”

* * *

Between Kara and Donna, the trip back to the states and then to their new (temporary) base took less than half an hour, even with all their additional cargo.

They weren’t staying at the New York penthouse any more, Dick sure that Bruce had already visited it or at least sent someone to take a look at it. Instead they opened up one of their own old emergency shelters, from way back when there had been only five tiny titans and they just realised that they couldn’t always count on their mentors.

He didn’t know who blabbed, but the base was far from deserted when they arrived.

Garth was waiting at the door and with his crossed arms almost the perfect picture of a disappointed housewife welcoming back her drunk husband in the middle of the night. 

Victor was further in the back, barely visible over the stack of mainframes he was crouching behind.

“We’ll handle this,” Donna said, patting the cargo. “Go on, say hello and receive whatever hugs or punches you’re owed.”

“That’s encouraging,” he grumbled but made his way towards Garth.

* * *

Another almost rib shattering hug and some choice words later, Garth finally let him go although not before he passed a hand over Dick’s head.

“I think I’m finally taller now,” he proclaimed and Dick fought down a smile. 

“I don’t think so. You stopped growing even before my— even before I decided to not age for five years.”

Victor quickly approached, giving them both an appraising look over. “Same height,” he decided. “You are both short.”

“Vic, just because we aren’t up to your ridiculous two meters—” Garth began, but Dick nudged him with his elbow to keep him quiet. “He doesn’t need additional ammunition, man,” he whispered, “and the only one shorter than us here is Kara, but you don’t want her angry.”

Then he turned back to Victor just in time to sweep him in a hug. “How did they ever drag you away from the League without it immediately collapsing?”

“Hey, you doubt my proficiency in setting up idiot-proof automated systems?”

“I know you’re smart as hell, but nobody outsmarts an idiot getting into trouble, especially if said idiot happens to have superpowers.”

Victor gave him a wide smile and then nodded towards where Kara and Donna were still securing their… cargo.

“A bit like you lot, then?”

Wally was immediately indignant about such a slight: “Hey, we’re plenty smart!”

“Wally, we’re in the League together, so I know you have a brain. But I’ve also known you since the Teen Titans, so I _also_ know you don’t always use it -- heck, I know that you only sometimes use it.”

Wally half-heartedly grumbled about it, but it was all clearly just pretend.

“So what now, o fearless leader?” Garth instead turned to Dick. “You have already managed to gather three — no, four — of us. Are you looking into running the Titans again?”

Dick thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know,” he truthfully said. “I don’t know about anything permanent, but I do need a team. I think. Again, I have absolutely nothing solid planned.”

Wally seemed rather enthusiastic about the idea: “Hey, that’s not a no!”

“Flash, you can’t just desert the League—”

“Can too, are you kidding me? For my bestest bro, I would do anything.”

Dick squinted. “I thought Donna was my bestest bro.”

“Are you kidding me?” Wally said, clearly completely unaware of the two women now approaching their little group. “She’s more like your sister, y’know?”

“Really?” Donna asked from behind him and he yelped and spun around. “Are you coveting my position as Richard’s right hand man again, Wallace?”

“Ugh, never say it like that again,” Kara said, showing her tongue to express her disgust. “Oh hey Vic, if I do miss that meeting today, please know it’s because of these lovely people.”

“Alright, Dick, I imagine we aren’t gathered here just to stand around all day,” Donna turned to Dick.

He shrugged: “Hey, I didn’t know Garth and Vic were going to be here — but I am not protesting, of course,” he hurried to placate them. “I guess I’ll just tell everyone. Actually, for what I have in mind — and it is a rather vague idea — the more people, the better.”

“Hold on, you’re actually… sharing things with us?” Kara asked all incredulously.

Dick exchanged a puzzled look with Wally. “Sure?” he said. “You do need to know this.”

“Man, and here I thought that keeping everything a secret until it almost kills someone was like, the first thing you learned as a Bat,” she said.

Wally was already patting Dick’s shoulder: “He’s a Titan first and a Bat second. We share things. Like a functional team. Usually.”

“Excuse you, he’s very clearly a bird first, a Titan second, and a bat third,” Donna corrected him. “So he is allowed to keep _some_ secrets. But not when he’s planning on dragging us all onto a dangerous quest.”

Dick nodded. “I think,” he slowly said, “there’s someone you all need to meet.”

* * *

There were multiple surveillance and recording systems active, from the most expensive and high tech available to a simple mounted film camera. Whatever happened would at least be exceptionally well-documented if nothing else. 

He didn’t know whether it would work. Indeterminacy didn’t seem to be very friendly towards humans, but these were all his friends and should be safe from its ire. Which was one possibility. The other was simply its silence as it refused to cooperate. Something that may make him look slightly crazy, but the Titans have trusted him with even less evidence.

“Alright,” he said aloud, mostly to keep a sense of a normal conversation going for everyone around him but slightly also because he hoped it would draw Indeterminacy out, “I don’t think I have actually asked you for a favour, and this isn’t exactly it — I would like you to meet my friends.”

The ex-Titans (and Kara) were standing in a loose circle around him, staring at him with a mix of concern and anxious anticipation. Donna had her hands crossed over her chest, a clear sign they would otherwise be itching towards her weapons. Wally’s foot was tapping so fast it was more of a blur than anything else, while Garth stood so still he could be mistaken for a statue. Victor’s fingers were twitching, but in a rhythmic pattern and not like they were skating over an invisible keyboard. Even Kara was floating an inch or so off the ground, her hands held in loose fists.

Not very welcoming, but then again, he didn’t want them to be seen as easy prey.

**They are known to me,** Indeterminacy finally spoke up, **your memories are full of them.**

He was about to ask if they had also heard it or if it was using its ‘inside voice’ again, but judging by everyone’s reaction, it had been plenty loud.

“Hey, now, my memories are also full of you — I mean Dick — ugh, I mean Nightwing.” Wally’s attempt at diffusing the tension might have been slightly chaotic, but it worked. Donna even gave him a small smile.

“He is a dear friend of ours too,” she then said. “We owe much to him. If you need his help, everyone here is ready to step up and offer you their sword too.” She looked around the circle. “Metaphorically speaking. Whatever you seek, we will gladly provide.”

**You are … different. Unlike other humans**

“I think you’ll find out that we’re all very different,” Kara said. “Starting with the fact that many of us aren’t even human.”

**The difference between a Kryptonian — or an Amazon, or an Atlantean, for that matter — and a human is negligible to me. You are different in how you come together for one of your own without demanding retribution.**

“You must not have a lot of experience with humans or any humanoid species if that surprises you,” Donna fired back.

An unpleasant sensation of ice stillness settled in Dick and he tried not to fidget. No matter how much he trusted his friends to protect themselves and how much he believed that Indeterminacy didn’t mean anyone innocent any harm, the barely repressed frustration threatening to bubble to the surface.

“Donna,” he said, but she shook her head: “No, I refuse to be silent. I have met gods before, and I did not hide from them. You may say you are more than a god, but half of this room can claim the same.”

**Your attempt at goading me into revealing myself is admirable, Amazon. Your safety is your last concern and this body that hosts me your primary.**

Pausing here, it tilted Dick’s head and silently observed Donna. Then, like struck, it whirled around to now stare at Victor.

**And you! Your mind so vast, so wonderful, so splendid — and still so firmly human. What have your scans revealed?**

Vic didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed at being found out, even though they had all explicitly agreed before not to drag any scanning equipment in as a precaution. Not that Dick didn’t count on Vic ignoring that agreement or anything.

**You were far from subtle about that,** Indeterminacy told him, and Dick realised it was once again talking only to him. _Sure,_ he said, _like we could ever pull one over you._

It was a hell of a question, to be sure. Could they pull one over it? How? More importantly, what would it cost them?

“There is … nothing,” Victor reluctantly admitted. “This might sound like it’s from a bad séance, but everything I have says there’s absolutely nothing in the room apart from us and our equipment. No strange energy or radiation readings whatsoever.”

“Nothing telepathically either,” Garth said, two fingers to his temple as he frowned. “Aside from Dick’s thoughts being all over the place — Nightwing, you might want to talk to someone about telepathic shielding once you — well, once it gets out of here.”

**So now you are introduced to me and vice-versa. Is that the whole favour you were asking for?**

“You were completely cryptic and only wanted to irritate them,” Dick said, “and you haven’t even introduced yourself. Was there one single thing you revealed about yourself?”

Indeterminacy didn’t say anything and his friends all stared at him in silence, waiting for him to continue, but he knew better.

**Alright. He is very adamant that you all stay safe. And if you are to help him, then adequate knowledge is certainly a necessity. You may call me Indeterminacy if you wish.**

“And what are you?” 

**Greater than what you are imaging, certainly.**

It was the most informative thing it said the whole meeting.

* * *

They looked through the videos of the encounter later to see if they had missed anything or left any angle uncovered and stumbled across a troublesome reveal: nothing Indeterminacy said actually made it onto tape. No equipment had been manipulated or corrupted in any sort, there was just… no sound when Indeterminacy was talking. It took both Victor and Garth to come up with a rather obvious answer as to why; the entity never conversed using conventional means of vibrations but rather through direct mental linkage. Not that anyone noticed any sort of an intrusion.

Nobody felt better after the meeting.

“We need a plan,” Garth said.

“We need a plan plus five contingency ones and an end-of-the-world protocol to boot,” Wally countered. “This is bad.”

“It wasn’t showy,” Donna said, still thinking about her brief talk with the thing. “Nor arrogant. But I can’t tell whether it is holding back because it can’t actually show all it is saying it can do, or because it’s so confident in its powers.”

“More than a god,” Kara scoffed. “That means nothing until it proves itself.”

“If we can’t even sense it, there is no way — for now — we can separate it from you, Dick,” Victor said. “But I also wouldn’t be giving it access to an artifact of apparently unlimited power just because it said the stone belongs to it. This, however, doesn’t mean you should stop looking for it. I think it best to have it safely stored somewhere as a fall-back option. Aside from taking it away from whoever wants to abuse its power at the moment.”

All very good points, all something Dick had considered previously, and all not very useful at all.

* * *

**You care for them.**

_Like I told you, I love them all. I didn’t lie to you. I don’t even think I can._

**And yet you look for a way to do so. But that is irrelevant at the moment. Your connection to these people is…**

_Sweet? Idiotic? A liability? Don’t worry, I’ve heard them all._

**… intriguing. Now, how does the search go?**

_Uh, weren’t you here for the delegation of work?_

**Pretend you have to give me a report then.**

_Are you trying to imitate B because you think I miss his particular brand of controlling behaviour or because you think it will be more effective? It’s a no on both, by the way. Or are you simply not as omniscient as you would like me to think? Because that’s… Uh, that’s some rather important information._

**Talk.**

_Alright, alright. The artifact was of course nowhere close to that outpost, which we were expecting. It also turns out that they had been expecting us — although not me and you in particular but just heroes in general, and had cleaned out the blimp accordingly previous to our arrival. So I might have lost that bet._

**Do not tell me you have wasted time —**

_Didn’t you tell me before that I wasn’t in a hurry? Anyhow, just because they thought they had cleaned it out doesn’t mean we didn’t get anything. Wally is right now looking into the Devoted to see what exactly made such a monster, and his preliminary findings point to a chemical from a particular well-known international company. Who are, surprise surprise, also the ones that commissioned the blimp through a number of shell accounts. Donna is talking to the relevant people right now. What she already found out is that they didn’t order just one, but five zeppelins. They weren’t all operational or in use, but of those three that were, the other two crashed into the sea a couple of months ago according to Vic. Garth is searching them at the moment._

**Multiple people are an asset.**

_Right? I could’ve simply told you that without that whole spiel._

**And you are researching math right now instead of helping them.**

_Look, I know it’s underwhelming compared to the exciting research everyone else gets to do, but I’m actually trying to build a profile. Not just everyone would jump to a mathematical equation instead of a simple list of coordinates. It also takes certain people to become so … committed to a theme and stick to it, to even compromise security for symbolism. A fanatic, probably._

_Hah, usually I wouldn’t even need a computer for this, but since I currently can’t trust my mind, this is necessary._

**The destruction of your memories was not my intention.**

_Somehow I feel like that’s the closest you’ll come to saying sorry. Shit, you really are like B in so many ways!_

**That was not a compliment.**

_Good guess. No, it really wasn’t._

* * *

Damian stared at him in amazement over the video call.

“Why are you investigating Karamazov?” the kid asked.

Dick frowned and flicked open a file on his computer. “Is that another alias? I didn’t find it in your reports. Which are very well written, by the way, good job on that.”

A curt nod was Damian’s only response to the praise. “Of course it’s not an alias,” he said, “but the man’s public name is Ivan Fyodorovich Nelson, the surname clearly being a recent change to throw us off his trail. I thought your education included Dostoevsky?”

“The only book of his I have read and liked was The Idiot,” Dick said, and didn’t add that he had absolutely no idea who Dostoevsky was otherwise. 

“How… not surprising. But I reiterate my question: why are _you_ investigating Nelson? I am only looking into him because I suspect it was his funding that brought a cult-like group of people into Blüdhaven.”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, I’m also investigating a cult, also funded by Nebo Open. I don’t think it is relevant that he’s using his company instead of his private accounts this time. Look at this,” Dick said and sent a few files over with a flick of his wrist.

Damian immediately opened them and began reading. “It does look like the same group. With the Titans mythology,” he added, his eyes immediately averting Dick’s gaze. “You already have all my data regarding them.”

He smiled: “Oh Dami, did you really take up this particular case just because it connected to the Titans?”

“I completely logically and rationally thought it might lead to a clue to your location,” Damian reported, his eyes still avoiding Dick’s. “And judging by the fact that you’re also investigating them, it would have. My actions were therefore fully warranted, and I repeat, logical.” Then he finally looked back: “But yes, I will admit to a degree of sentimentality.”

“I love you too. Do you wanna come down here and help us kick their ass? Their assess? There will be a lot of them.”

And the kid was instantly in motion, jumping up and starting to rummage around his room. “I would most certainly welcome our partnership again, Richard. Send me your location and I can be there instantly!”

“That’s great! But I actually need you to go pick up something on the way…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely nothing against Christina Aguilera; Keep Gettin’ Better was actually the first song of hers that I have listened to (on purpose, I have no idea whether I have heard her on the radio before) and I rather liked it -- i say ‘rather liked it’ like I didn’t put it into my fic playlist. But Kara in this fic is a lil bit of a music snob (ah, young adulthood), because adding little quirks to characters is basically all I do.
> 
> Before anyone points out that Donna is supposedly 5’9 and therefore theoretically shorter than Garth or Dick, consider this: Diana is 6’0.  
> Also, I like it better this way.


	6. Escaping responsibilities is sadly impossible for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sixth bit; stakes are high and the number of involved is even higher.

With most of pre-planning done and the actual planning stage still waiting for some other actors to arrive before it could get started on, Dick found himself listlessly wandering the hallways. Since this was an old emergency shelter, it contained everything their team might happen to require in an emergency.

His very outdated Robin uniform stared back at him, his first Nightwing outfit pinned next to it on the wall.

“I had forgotten all about it,” he said, looking at the much more colorful predecessor of his current suit. “It looks almost exactly like the new costume my… my dad was going to wear before the accident.”

He didn’t have to tell Indeterminacy why exactly he didn’t remember more about it. 

“Could you bring them back from the dead?” he asked instead. “Resurrection seems to be a trivial thing to gods, if the legends are anything to go by.”

**Is that really what you wish for?**

“Isn’t that what everyone who lost someone wishes for? To have them back?”

**My question was not about the general, but about you, specifically. You would do well to think about it. Do you wish them back?**

He stared at the uniform unseeingly, trying to remember how his father’s voice sounded. Was that memory one of the missing ones or had it simply disappeared because of the passage of time? Did he really not revisit these moments often enough to retain it?

“I’m supposed to,” he said. “Am I not?”

He knew that Bruce wouldn’t hesitate. Sometimes — quite often during their arguments and periods of total lack of communication — he found himself convinced that Bruce would throw him, would throw them all away if only he could have his parents back. 

And then he felt like a traitor because he would rather stay with Bruce, with his current family, than return back to his  _ real  _ parents. For the given definition of ‘real’. Sure. What kind of a horrible person--

**Are you really?** Indeterminacy interrupted his spiralling.

He cracked a smile. “I’m starting to think you’re only posing all these questions so that you won’t have to admit that you can’t actually bring them back, that, surprise surprise, you’re not omnipotent.” He would certainly sleep easier if that were the case, not that he was doing much sleeping these days anyhow.

**Would that not be easier? If you did not have to make a conscious choice to condemn them?**

“How do you know all that?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

**All your thoughts are visible to me. This is … distressing you.**

“They were my first family,” he tried to explain, “I loved them and they loved me. They were everything to me. But now I have so many others—”

**You do not have to worry. It was all theoretical. They cannot be brought back. They have been gone for too long.**

It was a mix of the familiar sadness and relief that washed over him even as he tried to deny that there was any relief at all.

He changed the topic of conversation. “So if we do finally find your stone, what are you then going to do?”

**Finally leave Earth. Leave you. Continue with my work, my purpose. This confinement is not a preference of mine.**

“And how do we know you’re not evil and your work means destroying planets or something?” he asked, half serious, half joking. Talking about this, in the middle of a hallway where anyone could hear them? Sure, why not. Much of it was too absurd to even think about properly.

**You do not. Besides, evil is subjective. What you might see as forbidden and morally reprehensible might be seen as a necessity or even good by others.**

He bit his lip, considering what it said. It certainly kept mentioning ‘necessity’ a lot. “So what you’re saying is that our best bet is just never giving you the stone? You would live your entire — my entire life — here, with me,  _ contained.” _

**That would not be terribly long, would it?**

He went on: “Except that my death wouldn’t free you, because if that was a possible solution, then you would have killed me already. How many people died before they stuffed you into me, huh? Seven? Eight? You have no regard for human life. So I’m still alive because you need me.”

There was no comment.

He traced the lines of his Robin uniform over the glass case with his finger. “Because without me, you are a disembodied voice that no one can hear. And that doesn’t sound fun, not for something that will exist for millennia to come. You couldn’t even interact with the stone like that,  _ if  _ you found it.  _ You need me.” _

**Clever. You are clever.**

“You’re in my mind. Either you knew this from the start or you’re just flattering me for the sake of it.”

**Yes. You are needed.**

“Then convince me!”

Despite his brave words, Dick wanted it gone just as much as it wanted to leave. The temptation to ask for a favour and be granted it was ever greater. 

And yet he could never do it. Not for  _ him _ . 

But a moment was bound to come to make it impossible  _ not  _ to ask. He couldn’t watch Dami— he couldn’t watch  _ anyone  _ die again, and if pleading for a favour from a nigh-omnipotent entity was how he could do it, he would.

**There is no guarantee that can be given to you that you would believe. As you have said — your mind is bare before me. That would let me craft the perfect response to have you trust me, but that is not the point now, is it? Because you would know that that is what that is. You would rebel on principle.**

That was also all true, another failing of his. Or a success? Either way, they were at a stalemate.

“I want to trust you,” he admitted. “You know that. But this is bigger than just me. And I have to think about the others. C’mon, aren’t you omniscient? Surely you can figure out a way to show me your true intentions.”

True intentions. Wow, he sounded pretentious.

“Maybe there’s someone that can vouch for you,” he half-jokingly threw out.

It didn’t answer.

* * *

Donna was the one to find him only a couple of moments after his strenuous conversation, quickly enough that he had to wonder how much she’d heard. She silently came to stand next to him, squinting at their uniforms in front of them.

She had gone through more redesigns than him despite mostly keeping the same name, so she had had more choice when it came to making a decision which costumes would be put on display. Because as much as he (and Bruce, by extension) liked to pretend it was all about utility, the outdated uniforms in glass cages represented far more. 

The two costumes Donna had decided on were her first red jumpsuit with the golden stars and the black one that looked like the starry sky.

“They look… incomplete, without my lasso. And yours without your belt,” she said after a while. “I don’t like looking at them.”

“Because you’re realising that the designs, although very emotionally significant and full of meaning, could have sacrificed some colourfulness and stylish choices for greater protection of what was basically a bunch of children?”

“What? No,” she said, looking at him questiongly. “Is that what you think? No, it’s just… those were simpler times, back then. Sometimes I find myself missing them.” She shook her head: “But we can’t be stuck in the past. The way forward is all that matters.”

The way she stated the last two sentences made Dick think they were quoted from somewhere, especially with how she rolled her eyes afterwards.

“What happened, Donna?” he asked her in what he hoped was a gentle enough tone.

“What happened?” she still spat out, her teeth bared. “What do you think  _ happened. _ You disappeared, Dick! First we all searched for you — I don’t think Bats had ever had that many people show up for a rescue party, but we were all there, once it got out who exactly was missing. And we found nothing. The strongest, the fastest, the most powerful and any and all other adjectives you can think up — all those people together, and we found exactly nothing.

“The World’s Greatest Detective. What a joke.” She swallowed and turned away from him, from the hands he had extended in a silent invitation for comfort.

“Do you remember Mark?” she asked.

He frowned at the non-sequitur and racked his brain. “Sorry, no,” he finally admitted.

“That’s alright, you only met him once. A professor of photography here in New York, if you can believe it. I was dating him when you disappeared.”

Past tense. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. “I’m sorry,” he told her.

She shook her head: “It’s not your fault. It was my decision. Besides, I dare you to tell me you wouldn’t have done exactly the same.”

“Spent my every living hour searching for you until I finally collapsed from exhaustion?” He pretended to think about it. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

She gently hit his shoulder. “A+ for lying, boy blunder.”

He was now finally able to snake a hand around her shoulders and pull her close. “That’s just cruel, coming from you.”

“That’s what you think.” She pursed her lips and tilted her head: “You know, I don’t even know why he dumped me at the end. Was it because he was jealous I spent so much of my time looking for another guy, or was it all the dates and meetings I cancelled because of it? Or maybe it was my complete lack of attention to his struggles at that time.”

Dick couldn’t help himself and she laughed at his shocked expression: “You look like you’ve never considered that I could be a bad girlfriend.”

“Is that why you left New York?” he found himself asking instead of confirming her guess. “Where are you based now anyways?”

“‘Based’ is such a loaded term,” she tried to wiggle out. “Let’s say I’m closer to… Los Angeles than here.”

“You betrayed us for the West Coast?” he mock-gasped. Then actually gasped at the realisation: “Wait a sec, did you say Los Angeles?”

And she was already looking up and away, her lips pressed close together to fight down a smile. 

“Did Kyle finally come back from space?”

“Alright, maybe a certain Lantern is  _ maybe  _ staying semi-permanently on Earth now,” she allowed. Then she narrowed her eyes: “Were you gossiping with Garth? I told him to stop poking his nose where it doesn’t belong!”

“Hey, that’s totally team-relevant!”

Then he realised what he’d said and froze. Donna also froze, except she kept carefully watching him as he tried to recover from his-- well, blunder. What a true boy blunder.

“Never mind,” he muttered, the good mood evaporating.

“I’m sorry, Dick, I know how much this team meant to you. It was just, after Roy and then you—”

“You don’t have to explain again. I understand. It’s just… I feel like I don’t belong here, anymore,” he admitted. “You all moved on, didn’t you? And I am  _ happy  _ that you managed without me, because that’s what I would want, that’s what I do want for you in case something happens and I don’t come back… But now that I did manage to make it back, I just wish for nothing to have changed from before, for you to be standing still, for someone to still be struggling just like I am — and I hate myself so much for feeling that way. Why can’t I just be happy for you!” he yelled out.

“Oh sweetheart,” Donna said, reaching forward to hug him, “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, if I can’t be sorry for your Mark thing then you can’t be sorry for this thing,” he tried to joke, but she didn’t relax. 

“We’ll fix this,” she instead promised him. “I don’t know yet how, but we will. We can do anything, remember?”

He frowned, trying to recall the exact memory she was referencing. She laughed at his puzzled face: “I was just talking about how we always overcome whatever life throws at us.”

“Not always. Donna, you  _ died  _ because of—”

She gently grabbed his cheeks, turning his head to look directly into his eyes: “I’m alive. You’re alive.  _ Wally  _ is alive. We can do this, I promise. But you have to trust us. You said it too, if you can’t trust yourself, then you have to trust us. That’s all we need.”

* * *

With a new vigour in his step Dick took to the (slightly) raised part of the floor that was now their podium to look over the partially gathered troops, just for a second.

That was a bad joke. Soldiers were the last thing he wanted or needed. These were all heroes.

**Just like you?**

_ I don’t need your mocking. I’m busy. _

Indeterminacy seemed taken back by his harsh response, but he couldn’t care less.  **It was not meant to mock you.**

Then it fell silent.

The plan had originally been a rather subtle and almost lonely incursion into what Cyborg, with copious footwork done by the Flash and with information provided by Flamebird and Tempest, finally felt confident enough to name as the main operating base of the corporate cultists they were up against.

They hadn’t managed to come up with a clever name for the group yet as everyone outright refused to call them by their chosen name — that one being the Titans, of course. Not to be mistaken for their gods to whom they were most faithful to and prayed to every six hours on the dot.

Cult Corp Inc. or whatever didn’t appear to be any more well-guarded than any other Brotherhood ‘retreat’ they had liberated in the past, so the small infiltration team that prepared to go in treated the whole thing as more of a potential workout than an actual incoming battle.

At least that was until Flamebird showed up and almost like a proud house cat dropped his ‘kill’ (figurative use only; Damian had long since learned the non-fatal ways of the Bats) in front of Dick’s shiny boots.

The gift was Damian’s mole. Or more specifically, the traitor that sold Flamebird’s tracker data to Nelson’s Nebo Open and the associated Cult Corp Inc. (it stuck). That was not that shocking, all in all. But as soon as Donna brought out her lasso and persuaded the ‘hero’ to share the details of his betrayal, the situation went from mild yellow alert to full on red.

Striker — the ‘gift’/the mole — hadn’t betrayed Flamebird’s team, on the account of  _ never having worked for or even with them  _ in the first place. The little shit was a plant, one of many that Nelson and Cult Corp Inc. had produced and then placed into superhero teams and alliances all around the world, in preparation for… something. The guy had been feeding his Cult Corp Inc. overlords with information about the team from literally the moment he got accepted.

The traitor was far too low on the pole to know anything serious about Nelson’s plans, so Donna stopped asking him before his brain turned to mush.

Remotely checking the Crays and digging through Bruce’s files revealed that the Bat had suspected Nebo to be up to something and had at some point also flagged some of the recent arrivals to the hero scheme — but didn’t manage to connect the two. 

Cyborg reported that the League wasn’t aware of any such nefarious plots either, which was, given their wide information network, slightly concerning.

So now they had work to do. Plenty of it, too.

* * *

The planning for the Big Plan was delegated to a special committee on the account of too many people having ideas they wanted to share and coordination proving more and more fruitless the more people arrived.

“Shit, we might as well buy out the restaurant next door,” Dick whispered to Donna as he placed another food order to keep everyone fed and happy.

“Hey, the more the merrier,” she whispered back. “But you do know that there’s no way Bruce will miss this many capes gathering at one location, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered. Duke, Kory, and Rose are making sure he’s very busy following a lead into my kidnapping. On the other side of the globe.”

“Rose?” Donna asked, stilling in the middle of sorting through the multitude of handwritten notes. “Are you planning on…” 

She didn’t finish the sentence, but he knew very well what she was alluding to. 

“Nope,” he said. “This is way bigger than him. But I am calling in some other favours.”

Right on time — because of course the guy thrived on dramatics as much as the actual tall, dark and broody bat number one — a Door opened in front and slightly above them, allowing for a classy entrance.

The duo that stepped through it looked like they hadn’t aged a day during the five years, not that he had expected them to.

“You miserable pile of shit,” was what Midnighter opened with before crushing Dick in a— well, in a bone-crushing hug. “I can’t believe I spent actual time looking for you and you then didn’t even ring me up to let me know you’re back? Just what kind of a messed up nemesister relationship is this?! And here I am, running as soon as you call. Just be happy we don’t have to look for a babysitter anymore, that used to be a nightmare.”

Dick tried to figure out what Midnighter had meant with ‘nemesister’ while he smiled at Apollo over Midnighter’s shoulder. Apollo had always fascinated him; someone so similar to Clark, so powerful and yet with such a different character? It proved that you didn’t have to be the most selfless bastard on the planet to have such great power and remain responsible with it, something Bruce always stewed over.

Dick let him stew and hugged Midnighter, who was now confusingly asking: “Wait, how do you  _ not  _ remember that?”

“Severe memory problems,” he managed to get out and then finally extracted himself from the hug, if only to shake Apollo’s hand.

“This is Troia,” he introduced Donna, “and Troia, these are Apollo and Midnighter. F… acquaintances of mine.”

“You were going to say friends,” Midnighter accused him.

Apollo shook his head: “I think he was going for ‘foes’.”

“But I ended up saying neither, so this entire point is moot. By the way, Midnighter, I couldn’t have called you, because I have no way of contacting you. Outside of directly pinging off that satellite of yours of course, which you don’t seem too happy about for some reason.”

“That is not  _ my  _ satellite, first of all, and second—”

Whatever was the second point would remain unknown, as Dick’s recently acquired communicator went off in that moment.

“Yeah?” he said, quite unprofessionally.

It was Victor, so not a problem. “Hey man, I think those people you were waiting for just arrived. And they brought a guest.”

“Great. I’ll be right there.”

* * *

He let Donna take Midnighter and Apollo to the gym to work out a few rounds. It would do them both good, having their asses kicked, but especially Midnighter. He could probably send some others too, to at least watch if not participate in order for them to familiarise themselves with each other’s moves.

That was always a problem when many heroes came together. Some were used to working with each other, but most hadn’t even met and had no way of knowing how to work together. 

Not that they had that much time to resolve the issue.

“Constantine, Raven,” he welcomed the two as they stepped into the main hall and he tried to not be too obviously disappointed as no Blood followed them. Raven’s hood was down and she was in the middle of sweeping her hair away from her face when she spotted him.

“You’re really back,” she said with a small but genuine smile. “I thought my dreams had recently changed for the better.”

“I see I can stop hiding every time I find one of you Bats looking into my general direction,” Constantine drawled. He, unlike Raven, had visibly aged, his lifestyle not one of stress-free relaxation. Was his hair just really light or mostly gray, or was Dick just feeling vindictive? Possibly both. Constantine continued, uninterrupted by Dick’s thoughts: “So how was Heaven? Y’see, I’ve got this small bet going —”

“I wasn’t dead,” Dick interrupted. “But I am sorry for my, uh, family apparently bothering you.”

“Don’t be daft, it wasn’t your fault. Although—” and Constantine got a contemplative look on his face, “Although we certainly could—”

Raven was having none of it.

“No favours, Constantine,” she snapped, “have I not shared enough of my prophecies with you? This way lies the path to ruination.”

Constantine mumbled something about Raven not being his bloody girlfriend, which definitely bode well for her continued existence and far less well for his, not that she gave any indication of having heard him.

“This is The Abominable Entrenchment,” she proclaimed, pointing at the tied up person lying on the floor. “And no, we don’t know what she had meant with that name either. She bears the troubled thoughts and the sigil, just like the rest of them.”

The Abominable Entrenchment’s mouth was stuffed full of cloth, but her eyes glared at them enough for Dick to know she would either be cursing them out or yelling at the top of her lungs, neither of which he was in any hurry to experience.

“Raven, I think you know Omen?” he asked instead, motioning towards the redhead that had approached them during their conversation. “She has definitely heard of you.”

“That is of no surprise,” Raven acknowledged, her eyes too busy taking in Lilith to even consider Dick any longer. “I can feel— yes, she is strong. Omen, you say?”

Realising they were going to be completely useless for the moment, Dick turned back to Constantine: “So what did you figure out?”

“What Raven figured out,” Constantine corrected. “I personally think it’s all a lot of codswallop, but I presume you still want to hear it?”

“It could be important. It probably is.”

“It should bloody well be, for what we had to go through to get here. Well, Raven thinks that only a few of these superpowered superstrong traitorous heroes got their powers from experiments or mutations or similar. Instead she says that most of them bear a mark of god. That sigil, which I am unable to see, for your information. A minor god, so we shouldn’t worry, she also says. Probably forced into giving up their power.”

That seemed… scarily possible, although he would have to check with Donna. And possibly Midnighter. 

“Thank you, Constantine. I suppose you wouldn’t want to hang around and—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Constantine grumbled. “I’m not one for your type of fighting; always turns far too bloody for me.” Dick resisted to comment on the average amount of blood left behind Constantine’s messes. Mostly because he wanted to defend his ‘best social skills’ award in his family. “Still, very good seeing you alive again, Grayson,” Constantine said.

“It’s always a pleasure,” Dick smiled.

Another beep of his communicator interrupted Constantine's inevitable come-on, and Dick excused himself with a flashier smile to answer Cyborg.

“Yep?”

Still unprofessional. But he had to have at least a little fun somewhere _. _

“Supergirl and Flash are finished with the temporary cells for the prisoners. And just let me tell you, the tech I’m using to hide this structure from the satellites is a  _ beauty. _ I’m almost sad to waste it on this project. Can you even imagine what else we could do with it?”

“Don’t worry, you can dismantle and take it with you after we finish.”

“Provided it doesn’t get destroyed.”

Dick winced. That did happen far too often. “We’ll try not to do that,” he said.

“Riiiight,” Victor answered. “What I meant to say was that everything is ready up here. And down there, too. So your middle ground is all that’s left.”

* * *

“... so we don’t know exactly what they want besides unimaginable power and possible world domination. But they have superpowered agents in every superhero group. They know how to summon and contain gods. They are funded by one of the largest international companies. Which, I repeat, is not LexCorp — for a change. Please try to contain yourself and your gasps of surprise.”

Dick briefly paused, his eyes skating over the gathered group to see if he still had their attention. “And they have killed at least eight people while trying to summon one god, kept me prisoner for five years, and then tried to kill me. Not to mention all the other shady activities a cult this size always partakes in. We don’t want another Brother Blood incident.”

Some people shivered at that, which Dick felt weirdly proud of. At least he hadn’t spent three hours reading old case files for nothing.

_ Damn you,  _ he sent Indeterminacy almost as an afterthought. It predictably failed to respond or even acknowledge him. He was almost ready to imagine it wasn’t  _ there  _ anymore, but that was a daydream he could not indulge in, especially not right now.

“Of course I trust you, and having worked with each and every one of you—” an apologetic grimace to Apollo, and he went on; “—I believe this will present no difficulty to us, especially given the number of extraordinary people gathered here today.”

“You don’t have to flatter us,” Kara yelled from the audience, “we’re already doing it!” She seemed in a rather good mood, her study date possibly having resulted in an actual date?

“Have you never heard of a rousing speech?” That was good old Garth, jumping to his defence. “Leave the man to it!”

“Not like we haven’t heard at least a hundred of them before,” Wally pipped up. He was sharing a well-deserved snack with Kara, a fully restocked pantry as a thank you gift from Dick for finishing their work so quickly.

Wally’s comment was of course immediately followed by Damian. “You are under his command, West, are you not?” he insisted, crossing his arms underneath the bird symbol of his uniform in a clear attempt to establish his connection to Dick. It was adorable, really.

“Oh great, he just shared my secret identity with  _ everyone in this room!” _

The only outsiders who might have not known before were Midnighter and Apollo, and they certainly didn’t care, and probably already knew anyways.

But Dick gladly returned the ‘favour’: “Dami, please be quiet, I know Flash’s just joking.”

Damian now glared at him for the casual reveal of his name through the use of that nickname, but Dick only gave him a thin smile and didn’t let him speak: “It was good that you interrupted me, actually. While we’re not in a rush, we also don’t have that much time to waste. Cyborg?”

“This is your operation, man.”

“Time, please.”

“Oh, right.” Vic tilted his head, quickly checking. “Mariah Nelson’s plane — that’s Ivan’s wife and the one that’s actually believed to be in charge of the Cult Corp Inc., the one we’re expecting to find at the compound — anyway, her plane leaves from a private airfield near the compound in a little more than seven hours. She will probably be aboard. Whether she will have the artifact with her is unknown. And before anybody asks, we’re not just taking her out and hoping for the best.”

“Right,” Dick said. “We’re taking over the compound. So, this is the end of fancy speeches — and before anyone says anything, yes, that was a sarcastic use of the word ‘fancy’ — and let us instead get down to business.”

* * *

All in all it was a rather simple plan. With nobody and nothing close enough to provide any sort of backup for the compound personnel, the ex-Titans and everyone else temporarily lending their hand didn’t really need to keep their approach subtle. 

So they went in guns blazing (figuratively).

Flash was the first one in. He swept the perimeter, disarming all the guards and wiring as many devices as possible into the defence grid that ran along the wall surrounding the main building, giving Cyborg remote access to their systems. He didn’t wait around and immediately went in and up the main building, stopping at every floor and every visible electronic device to manually connect those to the network as well, making Cyborg a very happy and powerful man indeed.

Midnighter and Tempest then literally busted into the courtyard through the wall, if only to increase the confusion. There they encountered a pleasant surprise in the form of three super strong ‘superheroes’ apparently moonlighting as guards. Pleasant, because it meant that they were here rather than wreaking havoc in their respective superhero teams they had infiltrated. And besides, according to Midnighter, their presence only turned what started out as a rather lousy workout into a proper sparring match.

Supergirl busted through the second floor wall and lovingly deposited Omen in the main barracks that housed the majority of the cultist guards. Apollo simultaneously carried Flamebird up to the third floor to start disposing of all their gathered weaponry, ammunition and other lovely surprises left in the armoury.

Troia, Raven, and Nightwing ended up on the top together with Flash.

Blazing red lights and loud sirens greeted them for a moment before being shut down and allowing them to take in the scene in peace.

Not that the room was very peaceful indeed. The many smoking and sparkling gun turrets sticking out of the walls proved that Cyborg and Flash had very successfully dismantled the automated defences, but the many cultist soldiers were still standing or kneeling around with their weapons firmly aimed at the heroes.

Nelson wasn’t even visible, probably hiding in the well-protected office near the other side of the building.

Cyborg, back at their base and running mission control, swore when he saw the last big obstacle — another forcefield fully encompassing both their objective and the majority of the guards.

“This one is not connected to the others,” Cyborg said about the forcefield generator. “It has its own energy source, so I can’t disable it from here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dick said. “If we can’t come in, they can’t shoot out, so we’re safe on that front. In the meantime, Troia, Flash, remember the Devoted? There seem to be three more of him. And they’re carrying weapons.”

The three enhanced figures were indeed armed, two with guns that were definitely not meant to be swung around that freely, and the last with a scythe in some poor imitation of a ‘death bringer’, its style far from the grim reaper it was supposed to imitate and more akin to a cloth-ripper.

Flash grinned and Donna calmly pulled out her sword, readying it and the shield. “They shouldn’t be a problem,” she said.

As they both engaged the approaching trio, Dick turned to Raven: “Can you get one of the guards to destroy or at least lower the shield?”

“Probably. Give me a moment.”

“Sure,” he easily agreed and whirled around to help Donna and Wally, not that they needed any help. But an escrima to the head distracted one just enough for Donna to finally slip around and bring it to its knees with a well-placed hit. Dick passed her a bola she could use to tie the manbeast down, her lasso still needed for further combat. Wally, on the other hand, had simply taken a look around the building and brought up wire from somewhere, using it to tie up his own opponent while still skillfully evading the third one. 

Dick recovered his stick and considered attacking the last one too.

He didn’t get a chance.

Raven’s yell of “It’s down!” coincided with a sudden wave of longing and a need to be closer, to be near, to be touching and holding and possessing  _ right now! _

It threatened to overtake him.

With the forcefield down, Indeterminacy had just realised that its stone was right in front of it.

First order of business was the complete obliteration of the forcefield generator, Indeterminacy seeing that it was that particular evil device that prevented it from sensing the artefact. The generator didn’t so much explode as just stop being altogether, blinking out of existence in front of the surprised soldiers.

They weren’t surprised for long, and nobody bothered to wait for a signal before they started shooting. Dick was sure Indeterminacy would have just let the bullets pass them if it weren’t for his concern for his friends and its need to stay in his good graces.

The bullets stopped in mid-air. Then the guns exploded. 

Everyone was screaming, either in anger or in pain — or both — but he didn’t have  _ time  _ for that. He didn’t even take a moment to check on his teammates, his focus singularly on the thin wall barring him from reaching the coveted object, just a thin wall that he could rip apart simply by—

Dick forced himself back in control, pushing Indeterminacy aside. The urge to dash forward and claim what was his remained, but it was overshadowed by his concern for the others and the way the situation was spiralling out of control.

_ Patience!  _ he demanded.

**Patience?! We have waited long enough, this is what is supposed to happen. Let destiny take its course. Let me go!**

_ This isn’t destiny, it’s just you being impatient.  _

**You are stalling. This is inevitable.**

It was then, before Dick could respond, that the mastermind behind Cultist Corp Inc. finally showed her face. Mrs Nelson was in her forties, wearing more jewelry than a jewelry store, and the half of the very successful Nelson pair that was actually interested in mathematics, economics and business — unlike her trophy husband.

She was flanked by two more guards, these far deadlier looking than the rest. In her hand she shook a tiny device with a blinking light and a big button she was now holding down with her thumb.

“I suppose complaining about the legality of this break-in will get me nowhere?” she said with a slight RP accent. “And before you even think of attacking me, I’ll let you know — as a courtesy, of course — that I’m holding down a dead man’s switch.”

Donna was covertly readying her lasso. “Won’t do her much good,” she muttered, but Dick stopped her with a glance. They had to be careful here. Mariah Nelson was smart and definitely had multiple back-up plans.

“Given the fact that absolutely zero of your activities here are legal I think we might not have to worry about being sued,” Wally grinned. Then grew serious: “Besides, I’m the Flash. Do you really think that little device will stop me?”

“Want to come here and find out?”

“It’s probably fingerprint locked,” Dick warned Wally. “And we still don’t know what it does.”

Not that he was too worried about it. Their conversation was being relayed through comms with everyone already converging on their location.

“Nightwing is right,” Nelson said. “Although I am surprised to see you here — but maybe you are someone else? I have heard you went missing long ago.”

A piece of the puzzle slotted into place and Dick almost laughed. “You didn’t know,” he said. “Billings was working for you, taking your money, and he didn’t even tell you!”

“What does that traitor have to do with this?”

Stalling for time was something Dick could do in his sleep, but he was actually engaged now, intrigued by the reveal of the mystery he had wondered about for some time now. “He was one of your many project leaders, wasn’t he? Trying to call down gods to enslave them, for you. But he never delivered.” 

She didn’t move, camly staring him down.

“Except for that one stone he brought to you, so full of — completely unusable power.”

She twitched. Bingo.

“You never managed to find out where he’d gotten it from.”

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, and now he couldn’t stifle his laugh. “You haven’t managed to summon another god ever since that first one that gave you super strength, and even when someone did manage to do it, they didn’t tell you!”

“Enough!” she yelled. “I have no idea what you’re trying to do here, but I won’t listen any more.”

She lifted the finger off the trigger and a loud beep went through the room.

The chests of the three bound ‘superheroes’ started blinking orange.

“Bombs,” Nelson said. “Implanted in their hearts, so don’t try getting them out. They’ll go off in about thirty seconds. The explosions will feed off each other. The closer they are to each other, the bigger the boom.”

He hadn’t taken her for someone that was willing to go down with the ship, but profile reassessment later, pressing problems now.

Could they somehow defuse the bombs, save their lives? He chanced a look at Raven, but she merely shook her head with an even grimmer expression than usual. And thirty seconds -- or even less, at this point -- was nowhere enough time to look for a different solution.

He could always ask--

No. He was barely pushing it aside now, who knew what would happen if he let it roam free.

No, there had to be another way.

There had to be no hesitation now. They might -- would, probably -- lose the six lives of the poor bastards implanted with bombs, but hopefully no more than that. 

It was easy to make the decision and he didn’t know whether it was because of just who he was or because of Indeterminacy. Pressing a finger to his ear he hoped everyone’s comms were still working: “Supergirl, Troia, Apollo, take one each and take them as far apart as possible. Midnighter, Tempest, you dispose of those on the ground floor.”

Nobody verbally acknowledged the instructions, but the sudden whoosh of air past him and the disappearance of the bound and blinking trio was a good enough answer.

Not that Nelson was done yet.

“Now that they are out of the way,” she said in a tone of voice that clearly told everyone something had just gone exactly the way she’d wanted it, which was never a good thing, “let’s get this show started.” She pulled out another little device from her pocket, this one a bulky little grey box with many fancy dials.

“Guys,” Cyborg immediately said, “that looks like a strong E—”

His voice cut out as she released the EMP, transforming their electronic devices into useless pieces of metal and plastic. Dick suspected the pulse had been enhanced by in-built boosters in the room around them, but he had no time to investigate or even to simply care about that.

The communicators were all out, and judging by Nelson’s triumphant expression, that had been her intention from the start. “You just sent away all your fliers and now you can’t communicate with them,” she said. “So who will catch the missiles I just released?”

The loud sound of rockets launching could be heard all the way up to the top floor, the briefest flash of light announcing their departure. Nothing good, probably. But what did she want to bargain for? They had her quite literally cornered.

“They all carry enough poisonous gas to kill thousands, all on their way to a different US metropolis -- obviously not Metropolis, because I am not mad -- and you are without a way to stop them. Either let me go, and I’ll give you their self-destruct codes, or take me in and have all those deaths on you.”

Ah, nothing good indeed. Dick didn’t have to pretend to think about it. “What about neither?” he asked.

She frowned, clearly trying to find what third option he had seen. Not that she would, as it wasn’t anywhere close yet.

Or maybe it was.

* * *

One of the walls exploded with orange, a blur appearing amidst them all in possibly the best-timed entrance he had the pleasure of seeing in the last twelve hours.

Nelson yelled and threw herself back, her guards preparing to shoot. Dick simply raised a hand to stop anyone behind him from jumping forward, but most of his teammates had already seen the shadows moving behind Nelson in a very unnatural way.

A moment later Duke appeared out of them and with a swift kick and a couple of punches disarmed the guards and Nelson. The orange explosion, which had resolved in Kory floating near the ceiling, didn’t even need to intervene.

“I have destroyed the rockets,” she proclaimed, “I spotted them on my way here and they seemed dangerous. I hardly think there was a good reason for them?”

“You were perfect, Star,” Dick smiled, “that was exactly what we needed. Signal, I think you managed to liberate an EMP transmitter from our esteemed Mrs Nelson. Would you mind destroying that for me?”

“I don’t know anything about esteemed, but sure,” Duke said, Mrs Nelson seething too much to contribute to the conversation now that Damian and Wally both reached the small group and started putting them all in cuffs and some additional chains to prevent shenanigans.

Vic’s voice came back as soon as the transmitter was in pieces underneath Duke’s foot.

“And to think I was beginning to worry,” Vic laughed, “but judging by the cameras, you’re all doing pretty well. Oh, doing more than good -- the fliers are on the way back and they all report minimal losses.”

“Sorry, Nightwing,” Donna’s voice sounded very apologetic over their private line, “there was nothing we could do but take them as far away as possible.”

“Not your fault,” he told her, because it really wasn’t. He was the one that missed that little detail, and the six deaths were on him.

**They would not have been had you asked me for help,** Indeterminacy very unhelpfully interjected itself into the conversation.

_ That is very unnecessary, thank you. _

**But we are nearly done, are we not?**

“We are. The artifact is in this room, is it not? I think I felt it.”

**The human carries it! It is in our grasp!**

“So I did manage to find it.”

**Of course. That was your purpose.**

“And will you now release me?”

**As soon as the artefact is mine again.**

He nodded and didn’t make a single move to get it, ignoring the push towards it with all his might.

* * *

Kara and Apollo were the first ones to make it back, next to Midnigher and Garth.

“It’s been a pleasure, Grayson,” Midnighter said and none too gently patted him on the shoulder. “I knew Apollo would like you.”

Apollo’s smile confirmed that Midnighter wasn’t full of shit for once, and Dick laughed. “Sure, sure, that was the only reason you came.”

“Technically, I haven’t--”

“Hey!” 

Donna floated down in the middle of their little group to hug Dick. “We’re done?” she asked.

“We are,” he confirmed. 

She gave him another smile and he made himself look away from her eyes that were undoubtedly sparkling in excitement. She had never completely managed to mask them. Neither had he, but then he wore a literal mask over them for a reason, and it wasn’t only to preserve his identity.

“Plan Ink,” she said, her voice loud enough to carry over everyone assembled, “Nuts, Orange, William.”

In the time it took for Dick to realise they were using an old British military spelling alphabet, wonder why exactly they were using it as well as translate the message, the deed was done.

Wally, who had been hovering around Nelson during her arrest, sped over to Apollo and grabbed his shoulder and they stepped through the Door together.

By the time Indeterminacy realised that most of Dick’s thought processes had been a simple but effective distraction, the pair -- and the artifact -- were half a globe away. Or at least far enough that Indeterminacy couldn’t sense it anymore.

**How dare you!** it roared, everyone around them flinching at its overwhelming presence that poked to the surface.  **It was right here! And they took it!**

“I told you I didn’t trust you! I still don’t trust you!”

**Of course it was your plan. Then you know that we will be trapped together forever?**

“So be it,” Dick stated with far more conviction than he actually felt. “There is no way I can simply let you go free, who knows what you will do?”

**Who knows what will be done if you do not release me, human! You cannot keep me contained forever.**

“I don’t want you contained forever, I just-- you can see my thoughts! You knew from the beginning I wouldn’t let you go! Did you, what, hope that I would change my mind?” he yelled at it, incredulous.

**This shall not stand.**

And suddenly, neither were they.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Titans (2016) issue 19 that I reread whenever I thought my titans weren’t being badass enough and it always served to enrage me enough to write my babies as capable as possible.


End file.
